If I Had You
by Sanctimonia Vincet Semper
Summary: It all started with four words: "I'm so sorry Draco." When Harry Potter seeks to amend any previous discourse between Draco Malfoy and himself, he discovers something more beautiful than anything he has ever experienced. From blossoming friendship to unspeakable devotion, this story dapples in explaining exactly why it is so important to be yourself.
1. Chapter 1, An Apology

**Title**: If I Had You

**Summary**: It all started with four words: "I'm so sorry Draco." When Harry Potter seeks to amend any previous discourse between Draco Malfoy and himself, he discovers something more beautiful than anything he has ever experienced. From blossoming friendship to unspeakable devotion, this story dapples in explaining exactly why it is so important to be yourself.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the characters, settings, or anything else worthy of mention besides the plot.

**Author's Note**: In more or less words, this is the story of how I myself fell in love. I  
just played around with some details and related my story to some  
characters that I know and love. I love feedback, so please let me know  
what you think!

**Stuff You Should Also Know**: 8th year at Hogwarts, Not epilogue compliant,  
Pairing: Draco M. & Harry P.

Chapter 1: An Apology  
From the Perspective of Harry Potter

It all started with four words.

"I'm so sorry Draco."

I felt the corners of my lips turn downward of their own accord as the foreign words left my mouth, making the sentiment slightly resinous with insincerity.

The blond-haired boy in front of me looked up from the book in his lap as his silver eyes searched fleetingly, uncomprehendingly, into mine.

"_What_?" He muttered in a tone so quiet that it almost seemed as though he was speaking to himself rather than me.

I took a deep breath before continuing, struggling to keep my tone even and my expression innocent.

"I said I'm sorry Draco." He looked away, obviously aiming to look disinterested. "I regret how much energy I've put into hating you. Considering all that we've been through, can we just put everything behind us? No more fighting. We're both on the same side now."

His eyes flitted back to mine, their expression dappled pointedly with malice. Then, just as swiftly as the apparent tension had come, it dissipated in front of me. His eyes dropped nonchalantly to my feet, and his expression softened considerably, though it was still unfriendly.

"_Potter_," he hissed, though he sounded more thoughtful than angry. "You can save your breath because I don't care if you think you saved the wizarding world; we will never be on the _same_ side."

He rose noiselessly to his feet, an unkind smirk playing at his lips.

"Hey Pansy," he called, his eyes gazing somewhere over my left shoulder. "Wait up."

Without another glance in my direction, he started toward her, unceremoniously bucking shoulders with me as he stalked past. I turned my head and stared uselessly at his retreating figure, unsure as to what I should do next.

Since the end of the war, this had been his style. Silently, almost wordlessly hating me. Unlike before, when he always had a snide comment about me at the ready, he now only spoke to me as much as common courtesy absolutely demanded. He did not go out of his way to torment my friends and me anymore. Maybe this had to do with the fact that many considered me the world's current most powerful wizard. Everyone was scared of provoking me now because they knew what I was capable of.

Bothered by Malfoy's candid rejection, I made my way toward the Gryffindor common room, seeking the console of my friends.

"Why do you care what _Malfoy_ thinks of you?" Ron grumbled agitatedly, furrowing his brows at Hermione, who sought to comfort him by rubbing the back of his hand.

"I think what Harry is trying to say, Ron, is that he wants to start off his new life right, and that includes making amends with those that he's had previous disputes with in the past." Hermione's voice radiated uncertainty, showing that even she did not fully understand my intentions.

"I just want to make everything right now that the war is all over. Preparing for the fight with Voldemort has consumed so much of the past seven years of my life. Everything is different now. I no longer have the desire to take part in pity arguments, and also . . . I feel a little guilty. It's hard to explain, but neither Malfoy nor his mother turned me into Voldemort when they had the chance. Even though they didn't help or support me much, they played a part in the bigger picture.

"If Narcissa hadn't lied for me in the forbidden forest, Voldemort would have sent another killing curse my way, and Draco lying about recognizing me in Malfoy Manor helped save my life too."

"_Harry_," Ron tried to cut me off, but I continued, adamant about my decision to make things right with Malfoy.

"Like I said, the Malfoy's didn't do much, but they showed their true allegiance all the same. There's no reason for us to hate each other."

"But Harry, what exactly do you want to gain out of making amends with him?" Hermione pressed softly.

"I'm not really sure," I pondered momentarily. "I don't really expect for us to become friends or anything; I just want us to be able to nod our heads at each other or wave with a friendly smile if we see each other some time in the future. I am tired of having enemies, and I don't really have any anymore. Well, expect for him maybe."

"It's not like he's a threat if that's what you're worried about," Ron grumbled desperately, sensing my upcoming resolve.

"I'm not worried about him attacking," I chuckled without humor. "I just don't want any more enemies."

"I don't understand." Ron looked at Hermione for support.

"You don't have to," I said innocently, smirking back at my friends. "I have already made up my mind. I am going to make Draco Malfoy stop hating me."

* * *

"Harry, what are you thinking about?" Hermione's voice penetrated my reverie, drawing my attention back to the Great Hall, the scattered voices of disjointed conversation, and the platter of untouched breakfast sitting in front of me.

Up until recently, I had been pondering a pair of tumultuous grey eyes and what they might look like if alight with an expression of excitement or curiosity rather than anger and calculation like the way I knew them to look so well.

"I'm trying to figure out why I decided to come back to school for an eighth year," I lied smoothly.

An admission would have been too embarrassing, but the truth was that I enjoyed having a project to focus my attention on: Malfoy. Unfortunately, I had to admit that I was investing myself a bit more than absolutely necessary into this case, but I am always happiest when seeking to right a wrong or help someone out. I guess that was kind of how I viewed my interest in Malfoy. By eliminating any previous discourse between us, I was _helping him out_, wasn't I?

"The year is going to fly by faster than you know it, and when you start Auror training, you will be grateful for the extra preparation," Hermione explained thoughtfully, striving to quell my apparent quandaries.

"I know. I'm just thinking about Potions class this morning and how I would rather de-gnome a garden than go to it," I grumbled purposefully, trying to invest myself into what I was saying without allowing my thoughts to wander back to him.  
Ron grunted in agreement, and soon the conversation drifted smoothly into safer territory, a place where there was no reason for me to ponder Malfoy and why he bothered me so much.

* * *

"Mr. Malfoy, is there something you'd like to share with the class?" The nasal quality of Professor Slughorn's voice reverberated unpleasantly off the walls.

Malfoy shook his head wordlessly, evidently agitated. He elbowed Crabbe in the shoulder angrily, for he had been the one talking out of turn.

"As I was saying, today you will be trying your hand at brewing Amortentia, a rather potent love potion . . ."

I tuned Professor Slughorn out, for I was enraptured by Malfoy's dejected expression. His red-rimmed eyes lay downcast, obviously plagued by some unspoken sadness.

"What do you reckon's wrong with him?" I whispered to Ron in a tone that I aimed to make sound nonchalant.

"I dunno," Ron muttered thoughtlessly; I could tell by his tone that he meant to have said, "I don't care."

"His parent's trial is coming up, in three or four days I think," Hermione commented, visibly confused by my evident curiosity. "He knows that he is lucky to have gotten off without time in Azkaban but that his parents probably won't be as fortunate."

Allowing Hermione's observations to slowly sink in, my eyes roamed over to the broken boy in front of me. Gone was the pompous child who'd gone out of his way to fill my Hogwarts experience with unpleasantries; gone was the heartless brat who'd never understood the meaning of hardship or unhappiness; gone were my feelings of hate for this boy.

Yes, as I looked at the Draco Malfoy in front of me, I was positive of two things.

First, I knew he was a different man, a man who, in my opinion, deserved a little luck.

Second, I knew just how to give him a little luck, and now that I had my answer, I was going to do everything in my power to help him.

* * *

"Yes, I have something I'd like to say." My own voice sounded insignificant as it echoed in the large, oak-paneled court room.

"You may proceed, Mr. Potter."

"Narcissa Malfoy aided me during the final battle by lying to Lord Voldemort. Had she not assisted me, I am positive that I would not be standing before you today."

I heard audible gasps sound from all around me, but I refused to break eye contact with the judge.

"Would you please explain the situation for us in detail, Mr. Potter?"

I paused thoughtfully, struggling to recall the words from the speech Hermione had written for me.

"When Voldemort used the killing curse on me in the forbidden forest that day, I did not die because lying dormant within me was a horcrux that he never meant to create. He did not know this existed, so when he cursed me, he killed horcrux within me, and I survived. Just after doing so, he asked Narcissa to check if I was dead or alive. Checking my pulse, she discovered that I had indeed not died, but she told him I had done so anyways, fully aware of the implications that might follow.

"In lying on my behalf, Narcissa threatened the security of her entire family because it granted me the extra time I needed to make it back safely to the school. Had she told Voldemort the truth when he'd asked her, he would have undoubtedly sent another killing curse my way, and unprotected without my wand, I would not have survived it."

I allowed myself to glance thoughtfully around the room, observing the reactions that my words had ensued. Most interesting to me, was the stupefied gaze of Draco Malfoy. My eyes then ventured to Narcissa, who locked eyes with Lucius, devoid of any apparent emotion at all, seemingly dumbstruck by my willingness to defend his family.

"Would you attest that in lying to the Dark Lord on your behalf, Narcissa pledged her allegiance to you?" The judge's words rang with skepticism, but his tone was not overly critical. He appeared to be just as genuinely interested in my position on the Malfoy's freedom just as everyone else in the room. My curiosity piqued at the fact that I was the only one in the room who appeared comfortable using Voldemort's name.

"Yes," I breathed, fully aware that I was commanding everyone's attention. "Moreover, Narcissa, Lucius, and Draco all fled from the battle back at the school when I returned, which shows that they possessed no further desire to fight on Voldemort's behalf."

Several people in the room appeared to be taking notes. I picked out Rita Skeeter's pointed face in the crowd.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. That is all, " the judge said, looking down at his notes.  
The trial continued as I took my seat between Ron and Hermione, who were praising me for my performance. I could not listen to their encouragement, however, because it meant nothing to me. All that really mattered to me right now was that I had actually made a difference in Draco's future because when I had decided that I wanted to put my differences with him behind us, I had not made that decision lightly. By my participation today, I hoped he would be able to see that I was worthy of his trust, that I was sincere when I apologized to him.

Eventually, I heard the words that were my salvation.

"By overruling majority, the council has decided that the accused are not in violation of any real crimes."

Draco stepped out of the audience and joined his parents, where they were being released from their confinements in the center of the room. His pale skin had taken on a sallow, almost unhealthy pallor over the course of the trial, but for the first time since I'd seen him that day, his cheeks were beginning to show just a little bit of color.

After a few somewhat awkward embraces, obviously aware that everyone in the room was still watching them, the Malfoys retreated toward the door. Just before passing over the threshold, Draco glanced fleetingly in my direction. His eyes locked onto mine, and before I could even think about what kind of expression I was donning, he nodded once and turned away.


	2. Chapter 2, An Offer

**Author's Note**: This chapter is a little slow at first, but I wanted to emphasize the change of character perspective and mindset.

Chapter 2: An Offer  
From the Perspective of Draco Malfoy

I trudged onward with great displeasure; even though my parents had not been condemned, I was not truly at peace.

"See you in a moment, Draco." My mother's voice lingered around me for only a moment before she stepped into the fireplace and erupted into billowing green flames.

"Come on, son," my father murmured impatiently into my ear, ushering me forward.

"Malfoy Manor," I muttered negligently, basking in the comfort of the momentary warmth that exploded around me.

I stepped out of the fireplace swiftly, languidly landing on the artesian rug decorating the floor in front of me. I listened as father materialized behind me, gingerly maneuvering out of his way.

"_My poor boy_." I heard mother's frantic whimper near my ear when I was suddenly ambushed by her tight embrace.

I felt my father's cool arms slide around us both, and the three of us just stood there for a moment, feeding off of our contact with each other. It was amazing how in that simple gesture I forgot about all of the hardships that I had just ensued; I was relieved of all of the difficulties of my existence. Unfortunately, much too soon if you'd asked me, my father pulled back, and I let go of my mother to face him.

"We _will_ recover from this." His tone was harsh, almost desperate. "For generations the Malfoys have endured, and this temporary "fall from grace," as the _Daily Prophet_ so eloquently put it, changes nothing."

I looked at my mother for consolation; I didn't want some sort of motivational speech right now. I wanted to continue being comforted. I wanted to eat a hearty meal, and take a warm bath, and sleep all of my remaining problems away in my much-neglected bed.

I _didn't_ want to talk about facing the world again right now.

My mother only conveyed the message with her eyes that she wanted me to continue listening to my father. I turned acquiescently to face him, encouraging him to continue.

"You will return to school in the morning," he addressed me, "for your only duty now is to show how strong our family is. Your mother and I will sort out the rest."

"I can't go back to school," I complained angrily.

"Draco," mother said quietly. "Your father is right. You need to keep up with your studies and graduate at the top of your class. You cannot let our problems affect your future. You are the future of this family."

My father, normally so cold, so distant, radiated an air of patience, of understanding, and it was then that I realized he was tired too. He was just as tired of the past two year's of worry as I was. This realization instilled some moderate comfort in me; hopefully, he would soon attain his previous stature of imposition and power. Maybe then I would feel like our family was strong again.

A sudden crack interrupted my abstraction. Looking over, I observed the floppy ears and crooked nose of Arty, one of our house elves, with a familiar fondness; it was good to be home.

"Arty, prepare dinner for us in the west-facing dining hall," my mother commanded coolly. "We are weary from our journey."

Another popping sound signaled his departure, and the three of us turned to leave the room. Dinner was a quiet event, made almost awkward by the fact that none of us knew what to say. Mother and father were undoubtedly trying to make small talk for my own benefit while trying to mentally map out how to move on from here.

"You've had a long day, Draco," mother observed quietly, soothingly. "Perhaps it's time for you to retire now so that you can get a proper night's rest before school."

"I think you're right," I muttered slowly, looking up from the small silver dish of hazelnut gelato in front of me; somehow the silence seemed to have diminished my appetite.

Pushing away from the table, I politely excused myself and made my way in the general vicinity of my bed chamber. The cool marble felt solid beneath my feet, almost comfortingly so because it reminded me that even if it was only for one night, I was home, and that was all that mattered. Wandering through the familiar serpentine hallways impregnated me with nostalgia; the house had not been this quiet since before the war, since before the Dark Lord had stationed himself here. Even though he was long departed, with every dark turn I made, a small frightening vision pervaded my mind, making me expect to see him or one of his obnoxious cronies pop out at me.

It was only when I heard the soft click of the large, oak doors behind me that I felt a small measure of reassurance; maybe we would recover from this, just as father had said. Crossing the length of the room, I entered the adjoining bathing chamber and snapped my fingers.

"Does Mr. Draco Malfoy be requiring something?" Arty asked immediately, materializing noiselessly in the open air next to me.

"Prepare me a bath," I murmured smoothly, turning away from him to begin removing my robes.

The subtle aroma of almonds and citrus verbena penetrated my senses, striking me off guard with their infatuating fragrance.

"Will Mr. Draco Malfoy be requiring anything else?"

"That is all," I responded pointedly, throwing my robes dismissively in his direction.

He had dissapparated, along with my clothes, before they had time to hit the floor. I sauntered over to the bathing pool at a tantalizingly slow pace, biding my time and allowing my senses to fully appreciate the wealth around me because I knew that by this time tomorrow I would be back at school. That night I slept soundly for one of the first times in many weeks, finally at ease with the knowledge that both myself and my parents were safe.

* * *

When I returned to Hogwarts that morning, the image of Harry Potter struck me like a body-bind curse. Somehow amidst all of last night's distractions, I had forgotten entirely about what I was going to do about Potter. What the hell was I going to say to him?

Unable to resolve myself on a clear course of action, I decided that avoiding him would be most prudent for my position. I did not want to come across as overly grateful because that would put him in a precarious position of power.

With Blaise and Pansy by my side, I felt almost as though order had been restored to the universe. Unfortunately, it was not much after lunch that Potter spotted me in the library as he walked by with that homely red-haired girl. Noticing me, he ushered her to keep walking in the direction they had been headed, and started over to me. I tried to pretend as though I had not been hyperaware of his every movement, but I just didn't know what to make of his behavior. Who was this boy? Why had he blatantly made such an effort to save my family?

"Draco?"

I looked up, purposefully plastering my face with a trademark sneer of disinterest. He was craning over the table I was sitting at, making it so that we were at eye level, his face inches from my own. I had not been expecting his close proximity; I recoiled, but only slightly, trying not to look intimidated.

"What do you want, Potter?" I hissed, emphasizing the fact that I'd chosen to address him by his last name when he'd used my first.

"Can I maybe . . . sit?" he asked, glancing down awkwardly at the table in between us.

"_Excuse me_?"

He must have taken that as an okay because the next thing I knew he was maneuvering into the seat across from me. Rather than succumbing to responding to his behavior, I looked down at my potions book and continued taking notes, trying to pay him no attention. Unfortunately, this proved very difficult because I could feel his eyes burning into the top of my head, willing me to look up.

"How are your parents doing?" he asked.

His tone was quiet and inquisitive, not provocative or pompous; it was infuriating. _What did he want_?

"They're doing great, thanks. How are yours?" I responded in a clipped tone, looking up briefly to glare pointedly in his direction.

"You can copy my notes from class on that if you want," he said suddenly, ignoring my comment. "I know you've missed lots of school for the trial."

I didn't respond, gritting my teeth to keep from lashing out. I didn't know how to respond to him when he was acting like this. A minute went by before a piece of parchment suddenly slid into place on top of my own. I examined it for a moment briefly before looking up.

"What's this?" I scoffed.

"My notes," he said innocently, evidently bemused by my aggravation.

"I don't want your notes!" I exclaimed angrily, thrusting the parchment back in his direction.

"_Boys, quiet_!" I heard Madame Pince's voice ricochet off the bookshelves in our direction.

"I wouldn't want to see you fall behind," Potter whispered, smiling.

"What's it to you?"

"What?" He furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Why do you care if I fall behind?" I grumbled as I looked back at him and rolled my eyes. "Never mind. Just leave me alone."

"I will as soon as you start believing me."

"Believing _what_?"

"Draco," he said softly, shaking his head in impatience. "When I said that I wanted us to put our differences behind us, I meant it. I thought that by helping at your parent's trial, you would be able to see that you can trust my apology."

"You shouldn't have even gone to it," I seethed irritably as I gathered all of my belongings in a dramatic flourish and stalked out of the library.

"You know that I saved them, don't you?" His voice came from somewhere behind me.

I turned to face him, unable to believe that he was being so adamant.

"I wanted to save them," he continued, "because I thought that it might change your opinion of me. Or at least make it a little better."

"What exactly do you want? Why do you care so much about changing my opinion of you?"

"I don't even really know what I want anymore," he responded solemnly. "I just know that I'm really tired of fighting with you about everything, being in combat all the time."

"That's not something that can change," I murmured quietly, unsure as to what he was trying to say.

"_Yes_, it is," he breathed. In those three words, I heard it. I heard the excitement and the passion he was putting into this action, and realized that there was no easy way of changing his mind. "Just give us a second chance. I want to know what would have happened if I'd taken your hand all those years ago; where would we be today?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked, struggling to remember.

"My name is Harry Potter," he said suddenly, very seriously.

He extended his hand out in front of him as though expecting me to shake it . . .

Suddenly, it hit me. I recalled the garbled, eleven-year-old memory of the first time I'd been introduced to Harry Potter. Was he really talking about that right now?

"Go on, shake it," he pressed hopefully, jiggling his hand stupidly in front of me.

I hated to admit it, but Potter was kind of amusing me.

Taking a deep breath, I extended my hand to his and shook it.

"What's your name?" he asked with the same playful smirk that I didn't find nearly as infuriating now as I had five minutes ago.

"Malfoy," I breathed darkly. "Draco Malfoy."

"Well Mr. Malfoy," he responded, dropping my hand. "I wouldn't want to go making friends with the _wrong_ sort, would I? Can you help me there?"

Staring unblinkingly into the depths of his eyes I tried to detect an ulterior motive or cruel prank, but I found no indication that any such transgression existed.

Taking another large breath, I responded slowly.

"Yes, I think I can."


	3. Chapter 3, A Friendship

**Author's Note**: Don't you hate it when you can't tell if someone is flirting with you or just being friendly?

Chapter 3: A Friendship  
From the Perspective of Harry Potter

"Hey Draco," I called after his retreating figure. "Wait up!"

It was now December and the earth was sprinkled in a light dusting of white. The trees were sagging under the weight of crystallizing icicles, and the sky was a cloudy gray.

"What is it, Potter?" Draco said, feigning a look of indifference, but I could see through his carefully fabricated facade clearly enough to know that he was happy to see me too.

In the past two months, he adamantly continued referring to me as 'Potter,' but I had now grown so accustomed to the word that it had taken on the qualities of a nickname.

When I drew closer to Draco, the first thing I noticed was his appearance and what it must have looked like in contrast to my own. His silvery, blond hair was poking out disjointedly from a black, furry hat that I had the vaguest sensation had at one point been an animal. His frame was draped artfully in a sleek, charcoal overcoat and his boots were made of shiny patent leather. I, however, donned a durable-looking, puffy, ski jacket and thick, water-resistant winter boots-the type of thing you would wear to make a snowman (or snowelf or whatever). The contrast made me almost self-conscious for a moment, but I overcame those feelings almost immediately, remembering that this was the way things had always been.

"Was there something you wanted Potter?" Pansy asked curtly, eyeballing my ensemble as though it wounded her to do so.

Draco was flanked by Pansy and Blaise at almost all times, and although they tolerated our friendship, or whatever it was that Draco and I shared, they still didn't really like me; that much was evident.

"I just wanted to let you know that I perfected that transfiguration spell I've been working on," I explained vaguely, hoping Draco would catch on.

Luckily, he did.

"Hey guys," he addressed Pansy and Blaise, "you can keep heading to Honeydukes; I'll catch up with you in a moment."

They negligently left us in the road, pretending they were not curious about why Draco was so interested.

"Well," Draco said expectantly. "Let's see it then."

I chuckled in response to his obvious enthusiasm, suddenly growing a little nervous.

"Okay, the spell worked the last time I practiced it, so I hope it works again now," I explained.

Hesitantly, I withdrew both my wand and an empty sterling-silver goblet that I'd managed to swipe from breakfast. Slowly bending over, I scooped up some snow, filling the cup up to the rim. Aware of Draco's staring, I tried to remain focused as I whispered the simple incantation Hermione had told me and waved my wand over the goblet accordingly. Before our eyes, the the pale white darkened to the color of milk chocolate, and the snow morphed into the consistency of liquid.

Looking up at Draco, I smiled triumphantly.

"So this is it then?" he snorted noncommittally. "This is the elusive drink called 'mint hot chocolate' that you simply will not stop gabbing about."

"Don't be so quick to judge my work, Malfoy," I bantered blithely. "You love both peppermint and chocolate, and this brings them both together. I can't believe wizards don't drink hot chocolate."

"Whatever," he muttered, shrugging his shoulders.

I extended the goblet into his waiting hand and watched eagerly as he raised the cup to his lips. Closing his eyes, he sighed with pleasure as the unknown beverage took over his senses. I laughed raucously at his delighted expression. Noticing my humor, he stopped indulging, purposefully putting on a face on nonchalance.

"I suppose it's pretty good," he admitted generously. "Not better than anything I've had before though."

I could tell from his eyes that he was hoping I would buy his indifference; that was very much his style. He didn't like it when I caught him off guard or introduced him to foreign, especially muggle, things that he turned out to enjoy.

"One of these days I'll get you to admit that you love trying all of the new things I force your way," I threatened knowingly.

"I don't know why you keep trying," Draco said honestly, chuckling at my determination. "See you later, you dork."

* * *

"I got this for you," I said excitedly. "For Christmas I mean."

Looking back at me with a bemused expression, Draco reached out and took the poorly wrapped parcel I offered him. We were standing in an alcove somewhere off to the side of the entrance to the Great Hall. I had caught him on his way down to the Slytherin common room.

"You shouldn't have gotten me a gift," he murmured politely. "I didn't get you anything."

"I know I didn't have to, but I wanted to," I admitted honestly. "I got all of my friends gifts."

"We're not friends," he said quietly, thoughtfully.

"You're right; I guess I don't know what we are," I admitted, trying to diffuse the sudden awkwardness. "But I chose it for you all the same."

Draco began to smile at my comment, but then tried to hide it (unsuccessfully). Carefully unwrapping the the gift, he uncovered a small black box. He looked up at me curiously before pulling off the lid. Inside was a thin silver bracelet. Each link of the chain was imbedded with a small, multi-faceted crystal. I knew that Draco must have liked jewelry because he was always wearing an ornate, signet ring, and I noticed that wore a chain around his neck too. I had chosen this gift in Hogsmeade one day in one of the smaller boutiques, trying to picture something that would look good on Draco with his reserved elegance and good taste.

"Thanks Potter," he sniffed fondly, intrigued. "I really wasn't expecting anything from you."

"Don't mention it Draco." I couldn't help but smile at the fact that I'd caught him off guard again.

I heard a snicker coming from somewhere behind me. I turned around and spotted Ron and Ginny speaking conspiratorially in hushed voices not more than fifteen feet away. Malfoy followed my gaze and his eyes narrowed.

"What's their problem?" he scoffed.

"My friends don't understand why I can't leave you alone," I said honestly, a little annoyed that they'd interrupted my moment with Draco.

"I don't either, for that matter," he responded pointedly.  
I smirked at his snide remark, and he smirked back, well, kind of; it looked more like a sneer at my expense, but I appreciated the sentiment all the same.

"Have a Happy Christmas Potter."

"Yeah, you too," I murmured back , watching him as he walked away.

* * *

"Give it back! I mean it, Potter," Draco hissed icily.

I couldn't help but chuckle at his enraged expression; I think that was becoming a reflex. Toying with the small, leather book in my hands, I took a playful step back.

"If you want it, then you're going to have to come get it," I threatened softly, reading the expression in his eyes to make sure that I wasn't actually annoying him.

It was late, and I had been having trouble trying to fall asleep when I decided to see if Draco was still up. The Marauder's Map revealed that he was in the astronomy tower, so I snuck out of bed to join him and see what he was up to. As it turned out, he was writing something in that journal I always saw him walking around with. Creeping up behind him, I reached out and snatched the book. It was funny how he didn't even react to my materializing out of nowhere; he was too concerned with getting his journal back.

"I'm not joking," he threatened frostily.

"Nor am I." I emphasized each word separately.

Draco took a jaunty step forward, obviously trying to intimidate me with his exaggerated slowness. I extended my arm and dangled the book teasingly in front of his face. He tried reaching out quickly to swipe it from me, but I was faster. Rebounding quickly, Draco thrust his other arm in my direction as he took another step forward, faster this time. I turned my back on him to buck his arm out of the way with my shoulder, but he pressed his body up against mine, wrapping his arms around my torso on either side.

An embarrassing bubble of laughter escaped my lips, but I just couldn't help it as I had never seen him like this before, so effortless and carefree; I wanted to see some more of this side of him. I tried shrugging my shoulders to give my left arm enough leeway to elbow him off of me, but his grip was strong.

"Give it to me," he grunted in my ear somewhere between gasps of breath.

I buckled over, shoving the entire weight of my upper body onto his interlocked arms, and he grunted as he was forced to let go. He did not miss a beat, however, because suddenly I felt a sharp push in the middle of my back, and I toppled over, dropping the journal in front of me as my hands broke my fall. On all fours I shimmied myself a few feet in the direction of the fallen journal and reached out to grab it with my extended hand. Suddenly, I felt Draco's weight on my back, and I collapsed. Struggling to roll over, he resorted to straddling my frame with his legs as his hands grabbed maniacally in the direction of the journal. I extended my arm up over my head, so that the book was just beyond his grasp.

With my other hand I pushed back on his chest as he leaned over my body, struggling to reach forward. I could feel his soft pants graze my cheeks. I don't know what came over me, but suddenly, I reached back and punched him. I hadn't put very much force behind it, definitely not enough to actually hurt him. Although, I had hit him hard enough to catch his attention because suddenly his gray eyes burned with bewildered revulsion, and the journal was entirely forgotten. I dropped the book somewhere on the floor above my head just in time to block his fist from hitting my face.

"Shit, Draco. Stop. I didn't mean to hit you," I panted, struggling to maintain my hold on his fist.

"_What the fuck_, Potter!" was his response.

Realizing that I was not in a position to apologize for my unexplained actions, I pushed up on his body with a hand on either shoulder as I rolled the two of us over, so I was now straddling him. I trailed my hands down his arms so that they were pushing down on his triceps, locking him in place. I leaned my face down, inches from his. I tried to steady my breathing, but I was so hot that it felt like I was going to explode.

"Draco," I grunted, not knowing where to begin. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hit you. I don't know what came over me. I shouldn't have taken your journal. I thought we were just having fun, but I took it too far."

I listened for a few moments as his shallow breathing began to slow and his flushed cheeks started paling. He turned his head to the side. I could no longer look into his eyes with the way I was positioned, and it was maddening not to know what he was thinking.

"Draco," I whimpered, suddenly very afraid that he was angry with me. "Say something."  
"Would you mind getting off me?" he asked quietly in a tone that insinuated all traces of former humor had vanished.

Without protesting, I leaned back, releasing my grip on both of his arms. I then awkwardly kicked my leg over his torso, so that I could disentangle myself with his slender frame.

"I'm sorry," I said again as he began to sit up.

Catching me entirely off guard, I saw him quickly raise his hand, and the next thing I knew, a shooting pain was coursing through my cheek. He had slapped me. Maybe I had deserved that. Looking calmly back at him, I waited for him to say something. His face had taken on a someone sated expression.

"Don't touch me again Potter," he ordered quietly, but somehow in that simple request, I could tell that I was forgiven.

"I won't," I vowed solemnly. "Well, I'm going to get back to bed then."

On my way back to Gryffindor tower, all I could think about was how much I wanted to break that promise.

And I knew that was very wrong.


	4. Chapter 4, Something More

**Author's Note**: I hate it when you like someone that's scared to like you back.

Chapter 4: Something More  
From the Perspective of Draco Malfoy

"_Blaise_, are you even listening to me?" Pansy's shrill comment snapped his attention back to what she was saying.

"Of course I am," he muttered drowsily.

"With finals coming up I don't know how you aren't more worried about . . ."

I tuned my friends out, admiring the waterfront landscape in front of me; not even their bickering could mitigate my mood. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time that I'd been truly unhappy. It was probably before my parent's trial because everything in my life seemed to have suddenly improved after that (and obviously that was because my parents weren't sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban and _did not have anything to do with Harry Potter_). Speaking of which, I was supposed to be meeting up with him soon to carve pumpkins.

In honor of Dumbledore's memory, Hogwarts had decided to create the tradition of hosting a memorial service to celebrate his life. Because this would be the first year of the ceremony, students and faculty were getting very involved to ensure that this would be a celebration Dumbledore was proud of. I hadn't much clue as to what we were going to do at the party, but everyone was doing something to help contribute. I had negligently been volunteered by Potter to carve pumpkins to help decorate. I guess we would see how that went.

"What time is it?" I asked Blaise, too tired to get out my own wand and check.

He cast a Tempus charm and informed me that it was nearly three-thirty.

"I better start heading over to Hagrid's then," I announced cautiously.

"_Who_?" Pansy squawked.

"The _gamekeeper_," I answered unwillingly.

I had never used his name before; Potter must have been rubbing off on me.

"_It_ has a name?" Pansy sniffed snobbishly.

Shaking my head in disdain, I wordlessly turned to go; sometimes my friends were so needlessly obtuse. It was around a ten minute walk from where we sat near the shore of the Black Lake to Hagrid's hut. With nothing but the cool around me to keep me company, I pondered how Harry Potter had managed to infiltrate my life. It was not as though we normally made many plans to meet up and hang out-God no-but he did somehow manage to keep popping up all over the place.

"There you are," I heard him call out to me when I was not more than twenty feet from the hut.

When I got closer, he made his way down the front steps to greet me next to the pumpkin patch.

"I was afraid you weren't going to show," he admitted teasingly.

"I said I would, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but when you say something you sometimes mean something entirely different."  
Interesting. I thought he often did the same thing, but no one admits to exactly what they're thinking all the time.

"Malfoy," Weasley sneered by means of greeting when he and Granger approached us from the hut.

"Weasley, Granger" I said quietly, nodding at each respectively when I referenced their names.

I would be on my best behavior so long as they did the same.

"Hagrid said that we can choose pumpkins from any of the ones over there," Granger piped up, alleviating the momentary silence.

She and the weasel made way in the direction she'd pointed, not bothering to wait for Potter and me.

"Well, let's get this over with," I groused unhappily.

"I'm happy you decided to come," Potter announced, smiling brightly.

I had to turn my face away from his to hide my answering smile, a smile that I just couldn't repress. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

All of the pumpkins were fluorescent and bulbous, most of them covered in dirt. I tried to mask my scowl because I didn't want to dampen Potter's mood.

"I'll have that one," I said finally, flippantly pointing at one of the nearby ones that appeared just a bit cleaner than the rest.

I heard Weasley chuckle from somewhere next to me. I turned to glare at him in retaliation; why was he laughing at me?

"Next you have to _pick up_ the pumpkin," Ron said slowly, his tone mocking.

I was not about to be condescended to by trash like him. Turning to face him, I took a step in his direction. Suddenly, Potter stepped in my way, putting a hand on my arm; the gesture was astoundingly soothing.

"I'm not going to make you carry your own pumpkin, Draco," Potter chuckled thoughtfully, probably trying to imagine just that.

Suddenly I felt very stupid. Potter was just inviting me to hang out with him and his friends so that we could do something fun together, and I was being a drama queen.

"Oh, Okay." I could not think of anything more intelligent to say, still a little embarrassed.

Bending over, Potter dutifully hoisted up my chosen pumpkin then wondered over to another and picked that one up too. Hugging them both awkwardly to his chest, he ushered me in the direction of some nearby picnic tables where other students were sitting, happily carving into their pumpkins.

"Where do I start?" I asked gingerly as he set my pumpkin down on the table in front of me.

"You can start by cutting a hole in the top and scooping out the goo inside," he explained cheerfully.

"The _what_?!"

* * *

After about an hour, I grew weary and gave up carving my pumpkin.

"You can't give up," Potter sputtered disbelievingly, "it only has one eye."

I rolled my eyes, glaring at his symmetrical jack-o-lantern. He kept laughing at me throughout the carving process, claiming that he thought I was making it more difficult than it ought to be. Obviously, he was just working so quickly because he'd done it before.

"I guess we should start heading back to the castle to get ready for supper," I decided finally, somewhat reluctantly.

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

He seemed just as unwilling to leave as I was. It was interesting because even though nothing had really gone my way that day so far, I wouldn't have changed any of it, though I could not have explained why.

"What if you came back with me to my room to get ready?" I offered suddenly, unthinkingly.

I averted my gaze, suddenly afraid of being rejected. In fact, I was afraid of why I'd asked him in the first place.

"Sure. That'd be cool." It was evident from his expression that he had been just as startled by my offer as I was.

Even though most of our walk to the Slytherin dormitories was spent in silence, it was not awkward. Rather, I found myself enjoying the wordless companionship. I wasn't even sure if we were allowed to invite people from other houses in. I felt suddenly worried that by admitting an outsider access to our sanctuary, I was betraying the house of Slytherin.

Looking over at Potter, however, I knew I was not going to disinvited him. It felt too good to have him by my side. Moreover, seeing his eager expression was rather . . . _Adorable_.

I did _not_ just think that.

"Um Draco, isn't it this way?" Potter murmured, pointing back n the direction of a corridor we'd passed.

"Oh yes," I sighed. "That's right."

What was wrong with me? Now he was going to think that I was absolutely incompetent because I couldn't even find my own common room. I picked up the pace, more anxious to arrive and get all of the judgmental confrontations with other Slytherin's over with.

"_Sanctimonia_," I muttered, and the portrait swung open.

"What does that mean?"

"It means 'purity' in Latin," I responded before even thinking about the fact that I'd just revealed our password to a Gryffendork.

_Not a Gryffindork_, my mind insisted unwittingly. _Harry_.

I shook my head as though to tangibly shake out my confusion.

"Wow." Harry's exclamation interrupted my reverie.

"What do you think?" I asked cautiously, surreptitiously scanning the room for any potential threat; luckily, the room was empty.

"It's . . . so different from my common room," Harry admitted. "A lot darker, but still really cool." He paused. "We must be running later than we thought. It looks like everyone's already left for dinner."

"Yeah, well we better be quick then. This way."

I led him to the hallway that came off of the left side of the common room, leading to the boy's dormitories. I was not used to the room being so quiet. I could hear Harry's breathing just over the rustle of waves; it was distracting. I opened the door to my sleeping quarters and felt unexplainably self-conscious. It was like he was there to peer into my room and judge me for the way that I lived; why did I care about his opinion?

"What do you have to do?" Harry questioned, his eyes scouring mercilessly around my room.

"Well I guess I don't have time for a shower anymore, so I think I'll just change." Heading over to my trunk, I rifled through and found something acceptable. "I'll be right back. Wait here," I said, opting to change in the bathroom (even though I changed in front of the other Slytherin boys all the time).

When I got back, Harry was sitting on my bed, looking pleasantly back at me. I decided to occupy myself with running a comb through my hair a few times instead of looking at him.

"Would you . . . like to borrow something to wear?" I asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, I think I would," he said thoughtfully. "That is, of course, if you don't mind?"

"I don't mind," I replied just a bit too quickly.

Heading back to my trunk, I reached in and searched for something he could wear. His shoulders were more broad then mine, but we could probably make something work.

"What do you think of this?" I asked, holding up an emerald green silk button-up.

Harry laughed, his eyes crinkling.

"I don't care," he said heartily. "I'll wear whatever you think I should."

"This then," I decided. "It will match your eyes."

_Had I just said that out loud?_

Luckily, Harry just chuckled some more before grabbing the shirt from my extended hand and heading off to the bathroom to change. When he got back, I still was not satisfied with his appearance.

"No offense, " I started innocently, "but have you ever tried doing something with your hair?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I've tried."

"And?"

"And my hair impossible either way, so I just stopped trying."

"We'll then . . . let me try," I countered.

He gauged my expression to make sure that I was being serious before slowly saying,

"all right."

I walked over to my bedside table and extracted a few bottles and jars. I set the products on the floor in front of him and got down on one knee. His face donned an expression of amusement as I stared at the mass of brown locks on his head, assessing what I had to work with. Unscrewing the lid of one of the jars, I dabbed two of my fingers into the pomade then ran my fingers through Harry's hair. It was surprisingly soft considering how tangled it looked.

"You can't imagine how that feels," he purred softly, closing his eyes.  
The air around me suddenly grew very hot, as though super charged with electricity; it made it impossible to focus on the task at hand. When I removed my hand to reach for another bottle, Harry opened his eyes. His lingering gaze caught mine, and I was suddenly drowning in the forests that were Harry's eyes. My chest felt as though constricted for a moment and I had to look away to collect myself before reaching my hand back to his head. I knew what he meant though. It was impossible to describe how exhilarating it felt to trail my fingers aimlessly through his soft hair. I had never expected for something like this to give me such great pleasure.

Eventually, I had managed to gain some semblance of control over Potter's hair, and I withdrew my hand to examine my work.

"All right," I surmised, "you're presentable."

He chuckled, glancing down shyly.

"If you say so."

By some miracle, I was able to force myself to my feet despite how intoxicated I felt.

"Come on," I said. "Let's get going."

By the time we were out of the coziness of the bedroom, the overwhelming electricity had subsided.


	5. Chapter 5, A Party

Chapter 5: A Party  
From the Perspective of Harry Potter

"How did you do that?" Draco asked impatiently.

I chuckled; I felt like he always needed my help with something, but somehow, I found myself growing fond of taking care of him. As part of Dumbledore's ceremony, we were releasing paper lanterns into the night sky, but Draco was having trouble lighting his lantern.

"You just pull back on the flap and cast a flame-freezing charm into the lantern," I explained. "that way the paper won't burn."

"Hmm," he sniffed.

I was beginning to recognize that gesture as his way of thanking me. It was interesting just how much his gestures, reactions, and facial expressions intrigued me. I guess he'd just grown up in a world very different from my own, and I enjoyed learning about it.

"Are you two ready?" Hermione asked from her perch on the picnic bench across from our own. "They want us to all release them together at nine o' clock."

"Yeah, we're nearly done. We'll meet up with you over there in a moment," I ascertained, assessing Draco's aimless wand pointing in the direction of his paper lantern.

"Do you want some help?" I asked as Ron and Hermione got up to leave.

"I don't need your help, Harry," he snapped haughtily.

That was the first time he had ever referenced me by my first name, and I really liked the way it sounded.

"What?" he questioned self-consciously, no doubt reacting to my goofy smile.

"Nothing," I murmured.

Ignoring his earlier comment about not wanting my help, I reached towards his lantern and placed my hands on either side of the opening, so that one of my hands was resting on his where he held it.

"I'll hold it open," I volunteered. "You just have to cast the spell."

He eyed me dubiously for a moment before gently sliding his hand out from under mine and aiming his wand into the center of the lantern. Muttering the incantation quietly under his breath, a flame erupted in the center of the lantern.

"Perfect," I assessed happily. "Let's head over to the courtyard now. It's nearly nine."  
On our walk over to the courtyard, I noted that Draco exuded a slight uneasiness, as though something was bothering him.

"Are you okay?" I asked him quietly.

His eyes met mine briefly then trained back to the path in front of us. In that quick glance, I saw sadness, and worry, and confusion; I wanted to make it all go away. Why wouldn't he tell me what was bothering him? I lightly placed my hand on his arm and turned to steer us into the courtyard. I wasn't sure if touching him helped anything, but the contact seemed to make me feel better, as though it was providing him with some measure of reassurance.

"Students and Staff," I heard McGonagall's voice soar over the crowd. "At nine o' clock, I want all of you to cast levitation charms on your lanterns and send them into the sky. May their light symbolize our strength and love for Professor Dumbledore and what he stood for."

Everyone waited in a state of tangible anticipation. A few moments of respective silence went by when McGonagall suddenly extended her lantern into the air with one hand and pointed at it with the wand in her other. Slowly and surely, the lantern picked up with a gust of wind and twirled upward effortlessly into the sky. Little by little, lanterns slowly raised into the sky, spinning up joyously in commemoration of Professor Dumbledore. I waited until most of the students around me had set theirs off to let mine go, and when I finally did, I felt the slightest pressure hugging me around my shoulders as though Dumbledore was with me now. Opening my eyes, I looked over at Draco in time to see him release his own lantern, observing how he gazed despondently after it as it trailed deeper into the night.

A few more minutes of respective silence ensued before the students and staff began to slowly dissipate. Some headed off in the direction of Hagrid's hut, where he was preparing a bonfire to sit around, where others were heading to the Great Hall for dessert.

"Do you want to get some ice cream?" I asked Draco gently, seeming to jostle him back to reality.

"Sure," he agreed emotionlessly.

A dessert buffet had been set up along a table that had been added to the room at the end of the hall just in front of the teacher's table. It was overflowing with piles of pies, and pastries, and other delectable sweets. The room was relatively empty, so the bonfire must have been more popular.

"We have to serve ourselves?" Draco exclaimed in defiance.

I smiled; my boy was acting like himself again.

"Let me help you," I offered, swiping the empty bowl from his grasp.

"Hey," he sputtered, but I turned my back to him and headed for the ice cream.

Reaching around me from behind, he tried to snatch back his bowl, but I took care of this by bending over the table to reach for the ice cream scoop. My bottom pressed against his front, and he jumped back, a small yelp escaping his lips.

"You don't know what you're doing," I teased as I piled a mountain of ice cream into each of our respective bowls.

"I can't eat all of that," he complained disbelievingly.

"You need to eat more," I chastised.

He shook his head and glared pointedly around the room until I had finished making our sundaes.

"Let's sit at your table," I offered, hoping that he would be more comfortable with me if he was at his normal table (and also shuddering at the thought of him eating next to other Gryffindors).

Maybe he had been thinking the same thing because he agreed to my suggestion without protest.

Even though he would never admit to it, I think he enjoyed my ice cream concoction, and knowing that I'd pleased him made my dessert all the sweeter.

* * *

When we finished eating, I led Draco outside where I'd suggested we watch the stars until we felt tired.


	6. Chapter 6, A Realization

**Author's Note**: Sometimes I would try not to look at him to hide the love from shining through.

Chapter 6: A Realization  
From the Perspective of Draco Malfoy

"_Watch the stars_?" I questioned automatically.

"Yes," Harry said simply, his face passive as though thinking about something. "I love watching the stars because it reminds me how small we are, how insignificant."

He dropped to the ground, sitting in a cross-legged position, gazing up at me expectantly. With exaggerated slowness I followed his lead, trying to wordlessly emanate my feelings of disinterest. He began saying something, but I wasn't really listening. I was too busy thinking about everything that had happened that day. I couldn't believe that he'd gotten me to carve a pumpkin and eat my weight in ice cream; I hadn't indulged in such childish luxuries in . . . years.

How did he do it? How did Harry always manage to make me do things I didn't like to do?

No, that wasn't even the issue. How did he always manage to make me enjoy things I normally didn't like to do? It was embarrassing to admit, but I wouldn't have changed today if I could have; it was perfect the way it was.

_Maybe it's him_, my subconscious prodded.

Yeah, I guess it could be him. Maybe he just helps me enjoy things; isn't that what best friends do? It could be the fact that I'm always a little less on edge around him because he's like my release; I always feel more calm around him than when I'm not.

_When I'm not_, I sighed internally.

The thought of being away from him for any extended period of time tormented me.

Despite how much I complained about him, he really was a good friend.

". . . And that one is my favorite constellation," Harry's words interrupted my reverie.

"Which one?" I asked urgently, suddenly interested.

Harry's answering smile was marvelous. He looked so pleased that I was curious enough to ask.

_See? That wasn't so hard_, I scolded myself.

It was heartwarming to watch Harry be so pleased with me. Was it really abnormal for me to show interest in something he cares about that I don't? Was I really that selfish?

Shuddering, I looked into his face, searching for some explanation as to why he affected me so much. I realized that carving pumpkins and watching stars weren't things that I enjoyed doing, but I had enjoyed today nonetheless because I loved watching him enjoy himself. I loved making him happy.

Why did I love making him happy?

At that moment, I couldn't have answered my own question because I didn't understand what I was feeling myself. I just knew that from this point on, I was going to be a better friend, the friend he deserved. I was going to be the friend that he had been to me.

I was going to memorize his favorite constellation.

I was going to go carve a pumpkin without hesitation if he asked me again.

I was going to do whatever I could to make this boy happy because seeing Harry's smile was my favorite thing in the world, and seeing his smile, making him smile, was the only thing that mattered to me from that point on.

A rumble in the sky overhead quelled my sudden intensity and brought me back to reality. It looked as though it was about to start raining; before I even finished the thought, a small droplet of water hit my cheek. Then another. And another. In seconds, the clear night had erupted into a torrential downpour.

Harry jumped to his feet, reacting more quickly than me. I glanced wearily at the ground, shuddering at the thought of getting mud on my hands while trying to stand up. Harry had already taken quite a few steps back in the direction of shelter before realizing that I had still not gotten up. Quickly turning around, he rushed over and stuck his arm out in my direction, offering me his hand. Taking a deep breath, I placed my hand in his, and he squeezed his fingers tightly around mine, hoisting me to my feet. With the touch of his skin, I felt the subtlest shock-so light, in fact, that I was almost positive that I'd imagined the burn.

"Come on," he said, dropping my hand.

My hand hung awkwardly in the air somewhat dejectedly for a moment before we both started running back to the castle. By the time that we'd reached our refuge, we were both soaking wet, our clothes entirely soaked through with water. Noticing my scandalized expression, Harry burst into a boisterous, full-body fit of laughter. I could not help but smile and chuckle a little in return (to his smile). After a moment, we both quieted and looked at each other somewhat sadly, knowingly.

"Well I guess I'll see you later, Harry. I had fun today," I said earnestly, turning to leave.

"Yeah, me too. See ya," he replied with a small chuckle, waving animatedly after my retreating figure.

"How was your night?" Blaise asked me the moment I stepped into the bedroom.

"Amazing," I replied breathless, unable to stop the goofy grin from spreading across my face.


	7. Chapter 7, An Admittance

**Author's Note**: Love is both the saddest and happiest thing one can ever experienced.

Chapter 7: An Admittance  
From the Perspective of Draco Malfoy

"Harry, there is something I have to tell you," I started quietly, anxiously.

Harry crossed the room and placed a soothing hand on one of my crossed arms, obviously noticing my panic-ridden expression.

"What is it, Draco?"

"I think . . . I think I . . ." I couldn't even formulate a way of phrasing what I wanted to say.

Suddenly overwhelmed, I lowered myself to the bed behind me; it's sturdiness seemed to provide me with some support, some impetus to continue.

"You're scaring me, Draco," Harry muttered, his voice wavering. "Just tell me what's on your mind. I promise I won't judge."

"I'm more afraid that you'll be . . . angry with me actually," I admitted acquiescently.

"Try me," he pushed, maneuvering his hands so that one was resting on each of my shoulders.

Reluctantly, I peeked fleetingly at his eyes. I needed to know what kind of message they were conveying. They seemed open and encouraging, but that just made me feel all the more guilty because what I was about to say could ruin everything that I had with this boy.

"Draco," Harry whined. "You're my best friend; don't you know that? You should feel like you can tell me anything."

Suddenly, my words bubbled to the surface and escaped my lips.

"I think I _love_ you."

I felt an overpowering urge to jerk his hands from my shoulders, suddenly so bothered by the contact. I was ashamed of what I'd just said to him. I felt like I was betraying him, betraying our friendship. He had always gone out of his way to make me smile, and even though he was annoying and immature and childish in so many ways, I realized that I had grown to like all of his flaws.

He had become perfectly imperfect to me, and I was beginning to view his quirks as endearing. I had been overwhelmingly infatuated with this boy for so long that I hadn't even realized it.

His opinion was the only one that mattered to me.

His advice was the only I sought out.

His company was the only one I craved at all times.

Burning tears of embarrassment welled thickly in my eyes, and I had to blink profusely and maintain a great deal of concentration to prevent from sobbing. I had made myself so vulnerable, and he had the potential to break me, to throw me away, to . . .

"Draco." Harry's voice penetrated my deep train of thought, and suddenly my mind went blank. His response was the only thing that mattered to me. "Draco," he said again, shaking his head unhappily. "Is that really what has gotten you all worked up? You silly, _silly_ boy." He removed on of his hands from my shoulders to playfully jostle it through my hair. The sensation sent goose bumps up my spine. "You don't have anything to worry about because . . . I think I love you too."

I was speechless.

Thoughtless.

Disbelieving.

"You don't believe me do you?" he asked me, almost angrily. "Let me prove it to you then."

He leaned forward and touched his lips softly to mine.

* * *

Waking up was so difficult that morning because I didn't want to believe that what had just happened was a dream. My mind was aflame with garbled questions.

_How could it not be real? How could I have thought it all up? When did I fall in love with Harry Potter? Why him? What am I going to do? When did I start liking guys?_

"Drake," Blaise nudged me softly, looking over at me from his perch at the end of my bed. His nickname washed me over with a new wave of nostalgia. "Are you okay?"

I opened my mouth to think up some clever rebuttal that would explain my obvious devastation, but I could not think of anything to say. I tried to focus my mind on Blaise, and the bedroom, and all of the concrete things in front of me, but I could not. My mind was attacking me, penetrating me, with image after image of Harry.

Harry laughing.

Harry smiling.

Harry pinning me down during a playful fight.

Harry's smell in the rain.

"Are you okay?" Blaise repeated.

Without even consciously deciding to, I exhaled a choked up sob and burst into tears. I didn't know how to handle this; I couldn't handle it. What was I supposed to do? How could I _tell_ him? How could I _not_ tell him? What had happened to me?

"Wow, Drake, wow!" Blaise exclaimed. "Calm down."

His words did nothing to salvage my aching chest. It felt like it was imploding in on itself and exploding at the same time. There wasn't enough air in the room. I felt him wrap his arms around me, and the human contact was surprisingly comforting. I buried my head in the crook of his shoulder and pushed him away with my hands at the same time. I could not make up my mind on what I wanted.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay," Blaise muttered into my ear soothingly.

After what seemed like an eternity, or maybe just long enough for me to run out of tears,

I exhaled deeply and pulled back.

"Please tell me what's going on Drake," Blaise nudged. "I'm your best friend. I promise won't judge."

His words, so close to Potter's, vacuumed all remaining air from of the room.

"I think I fancy Potter," I whispered coarsely.

"Is that it Drake?" he asked, outstretching one of his hands to nudge my face to look at him. "That's it? Than's nothing, Draco, nothing. So what if you like blokes? That doesn't change how me or Pansy or any of your other friends are going to feel. Your parents will come around too. Just take a few deep breaths. Pansy and I will help you get through this. Actually, let me go fetch her."

Blaise glanced at me wearily for a moment before turning to scurry from the room. He was obviously verifying that I was stable enough to be alone for a few minutes. I didn't really care if he knew. Or if Pansy knew. I couldn't think about any of it right now because none of it really mattered to me. The only thing that did was _him_. Groaning, I threw myself back onto my pillow, turning my head over to bury myself in it. Jumping up in revulsion, I grabbed my pillow and chucked it across the room.

"What was that for?" Blaise asked quietly as he and and a wide-eyed Pansy entered the room.

"He sat on my bed earlier. It smelled like _him_," I mumbled irritably, embarrassed.

"Drake, Blaise told me what you said to him," Pansy explained, ignoring my outburst and crouching down next to me on the floor so that she was at eye level with me. She reached out and enveloped one of my hands with both of hers. Blaise retook his seat at the end of my bed. "You know that this changes nothing between us, right?" she questioned bluntly. Her tone was not soothing like Blaise's, but rather harsh. She shook my hand forcefully, willing me to speak with her eyes.

"I know." My voice was barely audible.

"Then what are you worried about?" she pushed. "Why do you look so miserable?"

"Because . . . I haven't told _him_ how I feel," I admitted pathetically.

I watched their expressions instill with realization as they finally understood where I was coming from.

"He doesn't know how you feel?" Blaise clarified. "Has he insinuated that he feels the same way?"

"No, not really. I don't know," I grumbled. It felt like my whole life was being critiqued by my two closest friends.

"But Drake, we've all seen the way that he looks at you," Pansy admitted, smiling encouragingly. "And he goes out of his way to do things for you." She paused, searching for something that would reassure me of her opinion. "Did you know that a boy has never given me diamonds before?" she asked a-matter-of-factly, raising up my hand so that my bracelet sparkled in the light.

Blaise joined in. "And he loves helping you; you can tell from his expression."

"He loves helping _everyone_," I whined. "He's a bloody Gryffindork!"

"But he doesn't treat anyone else the way that he treats you," Blaise pushed. "He even blows off his other friends because he'd rather be with you."

"And he always surprises you with little tokens of _devotion_," Pansy chimed in.

"Don't say that word!" I ordered. They were making my brain hurt.

"But how should he tell him how he feels?" Blaise asked Pansy. They were talking about me even though I was right there. I felt like their bloody project.

"Draco will write him a letter!" Pansy exclaimed excitedly.

"I will?"

"Yes," she chirped, positively enthused. Then she turned to face me. "That way you can avoid the awkwardness of bringing something like this up in person, but you are also able to say everything that's on your mind in a well-thought out and comprehensive way where you can't get distracted or side-tracked by interruptions or what's going on around you."

I had to admit that when she explained the process so thoughtfully like that, it didn't sound too difficult.

"I think that sounds good," Blaise agreed (the traitor). "It's settled then." He shared a brief look with Pansy, then they both looked back at me. "Pansy and I are going to go down to breakfast, but we think that now, while these thoughts are still fresh in your mind, is the most opportune time for you to write Potter this letter."

Pansy elbowed Blaise. "Don't use his name," she muttered to him in what I imagined was her attempt at a hushed tone. "He's still sensitive."

"I'm still right here," I announced agitatedly. I didn't like being viewed as so helpless.

"Right," Blaise replied to Pansy, ignoring my statement. "Sorry."

I sighed, exasperated.

"We'll see you later Draco," Pansy shouted almost callously as she and Blaise hurried joyfully from the room.

It was only because I trusted them that I took their advice and put my quill to paper.


	8. Chapter 8, A Letter

**Author's Note**: Sending a letter can be just as difficult as writing it.

Chapter 8: A Letter  
From the Perspective of Draco Malfoy

Harry,

Even though I wasn't looking for anything when I became friends with you, I found something that was more beautiful than anything I had ever experienced. I discovered that with you I could be myself in its entirety, never worrying about being judged or having to hold back because with you everything is natural, and effortless, and somehow, I think I fell in love with you.

Regardless of how you feel in return, I just wanted to say that I will never forget the time you tried spoon-feeding me ice cream because you didn't think I had eaten enough for dinner; it truly touched my heart when you showed up and surprised me in Hogsmeade with a steaming cup of peppermint hot chocolate; I love the memories I have of crazy adventures we decided to have, such as midnight wrestling matches in the astronomy tower and carving pumpkins for a good cause; I love the secret, knowing smile you give me when we share a thought or opinion that nobody else quite understands because only you know the real truth; I like that when you ask me if I need help with something and I say no you come and help me anyways; I like that I can be myself with you, whether I be talking about shopping, or bragging, or complaining; I like that when I'm with you, everything is effortless.

Even if I fail a test at school or get in a fight with my family, you are always there to compliment me and make me feel perfect . . . I never felt like I deserved any of it. I know it doesn't account for much, but I think you are perfect the way you are; I wouldn't change anything about you. I like that we disagree on most everything, and are both good at different things; I like the balance.

I am sorry if by saying this I mess things up between us, but I had to tell you. I wanted you to know how I felt because it suddenly occurred to me that one day one of us won't be here anymore, and we have no idea when that will be. When I think about things like that, it makes me remember that I don't care what anyone else thinks. I don't care if I make things awkward. I don't care if lots of people don't understand me or judge me because in the end, none of that matters. All that matters is that I will have lived my life to the fullest, and I can't do that if I'm not being honest with myself. So I love you, Harry. And I don't think I want you to respond to this. I don't need you to write out for me how you love me as a friend but nothing more; I don't need for you to try to be sympathetic or apologetic. I don't want you to feel bad, and I don't want you to feel obligated to do anything. I just wanted to tell you because I feel like every time I have avoided telling you in the past it has hurt one of us in the end. Don't respond to this if you don't want to. If you didn't respond to anything I sent again, I would understand that also. I just want you to forget about your fears for a moment, and your insecurities, and just look for what to do in your heart, and no matter what you choose to do I will understand.

Yours,  
Draco M.


	9. Chapter 9, A Confrontation

Chapter 9: A Confrontation  
From the Perspective of Draco Malfoy

When I awoke the morning after sending the letter, my mind was drawn to Harry and what he must have been thinking about me. How could I have sent that letter? How could I have done that to our friendship, to _him_? How could I feel that way about him, about any boy in general?

My heart began racing in my chest, and suddenly I felt very fragile. I wrapped both arms around myself as though to hold all of the pieces together.

Pieces.

That is what he had turned me into.

I was just the broken pieces of the person I had once been.

I had never made myself so vulnerable before; nobody's opinion had ever mattered so much to me. Violently anxious, I began making myself sick with worry. Luckily it was a Sunday, so we didn't have classes, but I couldn't even bring myself to get out of bed to eat breakfast or lunch for fear that . . .

For fear that _he_ would be there.

Watching me.

Judging me.

Angry with me.

I wondered if he had told his friends; he and Ginny were probably laughing at my letter together right now!

"Drake," Blaise's soft voice interrupted the panicked frenzy that was my mind. "You should come up to dinner. You have nothing to worry about. I'm sure that the reason he hasn't responded is because you haven't given him the opportunity to." I couldn't bring myself to respond. "Come on, Draco. Give the boy a chance to collect his thoughts."

I still didn't say anything, so he turned to leave. Was he leaving me alone? Moments later, he entered the room again with Pansy in toe. I should have expected as much.

"Get up, Draco," she ordered briskly. "You are a Slytherin and a Malfoy, and you are going to pull yourself together for the sake of everyone around you who cares about you." She paused. "We're worried about you, so we're going to help you face him. No matter what he says we'll stand behind you one-hundred percent and protect you."

She walked over to my bedside table and picked up my comb. I watched as she leaned slowly into my curled up body and began dragging it through my tangled hair. Blaise walked over to my trunk and pulled out some clothes as I began to sit up, enjoying the sensation of having my hair brushed.

In just a few minutes time, I had finished getting ready and exhibited some semblance of normality considering the circumstances.

"Thanks, guys," I said shyly. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"I know," Pansy snapped lightly, smirking slyly.

"Come on," Blaise chimed in, placing a hand lightly on my back and steering me in the direction of the door.

* * *

It was not until I was standing right in front of the opening to the Great Hall that it suddenly donned on me that I might see him.

"You can do this," Blaise whispered in my ear just as Pansy murmured, "Come on, Drake."

On either side they linked arms with me and somehow, with their support holding me up,

I felt almost like I could face this. Once over the threshold I couldn't bring myself to look in the direction of the Gryffindor table. Luckily, my friends guided me to where we normally sat without hesitation. They didn't even bring his name up or seem to look in his direction. In fact, dinner started to commence just as it would on a normal day until I felt I light tap on my shoulder.

"Draco." I knew it was him by the tone of his voice, a voice that I had grown to know so fondly over the last couple of months. "Can I speak to you for a moment?"

Before turning around to face him, Pansy locked eyes with me and Blaise placed a firm grip on my elbow. I realized then that they would make him go away if I wanted them to.

They would make it so that I never had to face him again if I didn't want to.

But what did I want?

It wasn't until my mind wrapped around this question that I realized I knew exactly what I wanted; I think that a part of me had known all along.

What I wanted was quite simple: for Harry Potter to give me his heart in exchange for mine.

I knew what I had to do to get what I wanted; I had to turn around and face him. So slowly, tiresomely, I wiggled out from between my friends on the bench and followed Potter, who was already turned away from me and walking towards the door. My chest tightened and breath caught in my throat. This was the scariest thing that had ever happened to me. This was even scarier than facing the Dark Lord because the worst that he could do was kill me, and I would have taken that gladly right now.

When we exited the Great Hall, Harry guided us a little bit farther down the corridor before turning to face me. Gazing up hesitantly into his eyes, I tried to figure out what he was thinking. At least that way I could brace myself for the worst before the words came. Unfortunately, his eyes were devoid of any particular emotion whatsoever, his face all together blank. Without saying anything, he slowly reached into the pocket of his robe and withdrew my letter. I closed my eyes and waited for him to start talking.

"I don't know how you expected this to work out, but you've put me in the most uncomfortable position I have ever been in. I don't know how we went from being best friends," he shook his head angrily, "to you being in _love_ with me." He all but growled the word. "No, I do _not_ love you. I would _never_, I could _never_ love a guy. I'm _sorry_." His voice rose on his last word with anguish, as though it really hurt him to consider us being together. He closed his eyes and paused in thought for a moment, shaking his head again and chuckling in a way that was devoid of all humor. "I don't think we can be friends anymore Draco."

I exhaled sharply, and he took that as his cue to continue.

"I just . . . I don't want to accidentally lead you on or give you the wrong impression. I guess I just need a little while to think about all of this. A part of me never wants to talk to you again . . . But another part of me wants to be friends with the same guy that I've had so much fun with the past few months." He paused, taking a step closer and putting his hand on my arm in what I imagined was supposed to be a soothing gesture. "I just need to spend a few days alone to think, so just give me some space. No matter what, know that I've really appreciated having you as a friend these past few months."

Suddenly he pulled his hand away, and he was gone. I did not see because I could not force myself to open my eyes, but I heard his footsteps fading farther and farther into the distance, and with them, my heart.

I opened my mouth in effort to breathe, but my chest was so tight that I felt like I was choking; I felt like I was dying. I was in such searing anguish that I couldn't even feel it.

All I felt was the bitter numbness of his rejection as I came to an icy realization.

He didn't want me.


	10. Chapter 10, Messages

**Author's Note**: Sometimes, looking for little ways to verify that you didn't make it all up in your head is the only way to cope with being so devastated.

Chapter 10: Messages  
From the Perspective of Draco Malfoy

I'm not really sure when or how it started, but Potter had somehow begun the habit of slipping me little messages here and there, telling me how much my friendship meant to him. They started out rather simply, then gradually evolved into messages far more personal and complimentary.

I looked back on them now to see if I could try to find the hidden meanings in his words that had led me on in the first place.

He had given me all of them prior to _my letter_.

I had not received a new one since.

* * *

"Hi. I just wanted to let you know that you are my best friend and I hope we will be best friends for life :) You add a lot of fun to my life.

"Yours,

"Harry P."

* * *

"Thank you Draco,

"I do not even know where to begin! Should I start by saying that you are awesome or that you're my best friend? I will cover them both I guess, but really, you are the best friend that anybody could ever wish for! You are always in a good mood,"_ I snorted when I read that part_, "and you always know how to make me laugh. You are the only friend I know that can make a joke out of anything even though you don't try to be funny; it just happens.

"We have so many things in common and love to do a lot of the same things. You have made me a better person. I cannot believe that in the six billion people on the earth, I ran into the funniest, nicest, bestest, funnest, and coolest person out of all of them! How lucky; I know! I am very appreciative of you because you put up with me even when I am at my craziest. I know that I can be hyper and do a lot of crazy things, but it is always comforting to know that you like that about me . . . Sometimes. Haha!

"I love being able to come up to you and be like, 'hey, I'm bored; save me,' and we end up having the best time ever. Honestly, you are the only person in the world that can make certain really boring activities fun." _Interesting; I'd always felt that way about him_. "We never run out of things to talk about, which is good because I like to talk a lot.

"Now I would like to take this time to focus on a few sadder topics . . . like what we will do after we graduate and both go in different directions. I can honestly say that you are irreplaceable. My life has become so much fun now that we're friends, and whenever you tell me that you're too busy to see me I literally count down the hours until we get to hang out again. I know that might sound obsessive or pathetic, but you really mean that much to me. I hope that we will be best friends forever.

"I know that we're going to beat all statistics and be those friends who are truly friends forever because I cannot imagine the boring life I would be living without you. I love our friendship so much that I would jump in front of a speeding bullet for you."_ A speeding what?_

"I guess to sum it all up, you are an amazing person and I appreciate everything that you do. You really are the greatest friend ever. Thank you Draco.

"Yours,

Harry P."

* * *

_This next one was a note that we'd passed back and forth in our History of Magic class. We were supposed to be silent reading passages from the text book while writing our thoughts in the margin_.

"I just read the passage about the guy who keeps trying to prove everyone else wrong," _I had written_. "In the margin, I wrote 'he sounds like a know-it-all; I hate know-it-alls. Guess who it made me think of?"'

_Harry had laughed briefly before thinking up his own rebuttal_. "Well I just read a message in which someone was trying to insult his friend and hurt his feelings, but it didn't work. So the friend thought to himself, 'my friend sounds like an arrogant snob; I hate arrogant snobs.'"

_I tried to mask my amusement as I tried to think up something clever to write back. I settled for scribbling down_, "That may be true, but I am your favorite arrogant snob."

_When he read my reply, he nodded his head in agreement and winked._

* * *

"Dear Draco,

"We did it! This might seem really random, but I was just thinking about how we managed to become friends after eight years of fighting. All I can say is that I am so happy that I decided to help out at your parents trial because if I hadn't, you probably wouldn't have given me the time of day.

"Our friendship has grown so strong, and I know it will continue to grow better and better. I must say, after graduation, I think you should just continue on to Auror training with me (where you belong). Anyways, I'm pretty sure that we're going to be best friends forever because you are funny, entertaining and a blast to be with!

"I just realized something tragic! I am running out of room on this bloody piece of parchment to tell you how much our friendship means to me! I can always count on you; you always have and always will be there for me, and I hope you know that I will always be here for you too.

"I look forward to a great future together!

"Your true best friend (even more so than that bloody Blaise),

"Harry P."

* * *

All of the messages were so different, yet so similar. Whether he was talking about the past or planning for the future, he always tied back the message to convey the concept that he appreciated having me in his life.

Was it so unreasonable for me to think that he could want me in the way that I wanted him considering all that he had done and said to me?

It was interesting how by the time that I'd finished reading the letters, I felt as though I was not drowning anymore, but rather that there was a chance I could float back to the surface.

No matter what Harry had to say, it wasn't fair for him to act like I'd made up the whole thing in my head when he'd done so much to lead me on.


	11. Chapter 11, Confusion

**Author's Note**: Ignoring something doesn't make it go away.

Chapter 11: Confusion  
From the Perspective of Harry Potter

_What the hell, Draco?_

How could you do this to me?

What did I _do_ to make you feel this way? Why would you think I could like you like that?

"Harry." Hermione's voice was infused with authority. "You needn't continue worrying about that letter. What's done is done. Just don't think about him for a few days so you can decide what to do."

But that was just the problem! As much as I tried distracting myself, the image of Draco's face kept forcing itself to the forefront of my mind. I couldn't even think about him for more than two seconds without getting frustrated.

I was not gay! Couldn't he get that?

I wondered if he had pictured us together . . . doing stuff. It made me sick to think about.

"Harry," Hermione crooned. "Stop thinking about him."

"How?" I shouted.

Hermione jumped back, startled by my outburst. Suddenly, I felt very embarrassed. Why was I getting so frustrated? I hadn't done anything wrong here.

"Why don't you go out with Ron and the boys tonight. I bet they'd like to hang out with you. You've been blowing them off quite a bit lately."

She was right. I had been blowing my other friends off. And for what? For some douche-bag Slytherin who had the audacity to ask me if _I_ liked _him_! What? Did he think we were going to get married or something?

"What do you think, Harry?" she pushed.

I groaned, pressing my fingers angrily into my temples.

"I think I want to see Ginny," I decided suddenly.

"All right," Hermione allowed carefully, obviously trying to undermine my intentions. "I think she said that she was going to practice some spells from charms class near Hagrid's."

"Thanks, Hermione."

I jumped up brightly, suddenly alight with a new motivation. Why would I waste my time on Draco when I had someone like Ginny right in front of me? For too long I had taken advantage of her patience, always breaking things off with her whenever I got a little stressed. We hadn't been together in quite some time, and I felt overwhelmingly guilty about that. In fact, I was mad at Draco about that. He was probably the reason that I'd been blowing her off so much. What had I seen in him anyway?

* * *

"Harry, are you okay? You seem a little on edge," Ginny observed quietly.

I had just asked her if she would forgive me for ignoring her for the past few months and go on a date to Hogsmeade with me, and that was her response. I must have been more oblivious than I'd realized.

"I'm fine," I snapped, a little more harshly than necessary. "I just really miss you; I miss us."

Her eyes narrowed for a moment as a pleasant blush settled over her features. I could sense her willpower crumbling.

"I think it's a bit more complicated than that," she continued. "We haven't spoken much in months. We need to catch up a bit just as friends before we start anything." She paused. "I don't know if I'm ready to be in a relationship with you again yet."

Her rejection was hitting me pretty hard.

_Maybe because it reminds you of how you rejected him_, my subconscious chimed in uselessly.

"I love being friends with you, Harry, and I miss talking to you. I just want to enjoy catching up a bit before we try anything," she repeated.

Her words were reminiscent of what I'd said to _him_, and that made me angry.

He made me angry.

How could he betray me like this? _Violate_ me like this?

I was straight, one-hundred percent straight; couldn't he see that? I was emotionally and physically attracted to the beautiful girl in front of me. I wish that he could see us now just so he could understand how much I would never want him like _that_.

Suddenly the overwhelming need for physical contact with Ginny overpowered me. She was saying something, but I didn't hear what, and I didn't care. Reaching my hand around the back of her head, I pushed her lips to mine.

I forced myself against her mouth angrily, mercilessly.

See? Take that Draco! Look how straight I am. Look at what a pretty girl I'm kissing.

Greedily, I forced my other hand up to her head to run my fingers through her hair. I wasn't even thinking about what I was doing; I just had the need for physical contact with this girl. As the kiss grew more impassioned, I gradually forgot why I had been so angry, and my kisses slowed as my mind cleared. Allowing myself only to experience with my senses, the rest of the world fell away.

Now it was just me and Draco.

My eyes bulged open as I pushed back in horror.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked, breathless.

Closing my eyes, I sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm down the frantic rhythm of my heart, which I was positive had stopped all together just seconds before.

"Nothing," I said, shaking my head as though to make the images go away. "I think I better get back to the castle. I'm not feeling well. Thanks for everything though. I'll see you around."

I jumped to my feet and walked briskly in the direction of the castle and away from where _it_ had happened.

Where I had pictured kissing another boy.

Where I had pictured kissing Draco.

And for the briefest moment, when it was happening, I hadn't thought that there was anything wrong with it.


	12. Chapter 12, A Decision

Chapter 12: A Decision  
From the Perspective of Draco Malfoy

It had been seven days since the incident, and I was beginning to worry that I would never get past this. Even though I managed to hold it together for my friends, I still felt like a shell of the boy I'd once been. It was interesting how I'd always thought I liked girls until Potter pinned me down in the astronomy tower that one day; I now knew that even though I could have a relationship with a girl if I wanted to, she would not hold one-tenth of the attraction that Potter held for me.

I now spent most nights in the astronomy tower. I enjoyed studying up here on nights I couldn't sleep, but sometimes I would just come up and gaze out at the surrounding landscape; I was able to find serenity in the calmness of night. For just a few hours, I was given an escape from the catastrophe I'd created. Sometimes I would think about how hard it had been for me when I realized I liked him, and I would wonder what things would be like for us if we were together. Now I often thought about how I would gladly give up this pain to feel that pain instead; at least that had been manageable.

It was well past midnight when I heard the gentle rapping of footsteps on the stairs behind me. Because they were so timid, I was inclined to think that they belonged to a student rather than a teacher, who would have no reason to try keeping so quiet. Even if I'd wanted to, I don't think I would have been able to force myself to find a makeshift hiding spot. I wasn't done thinking for the night yet.

"Hey Draco," I heard a voice call quietly. Even though this voice should have made me angry or frustrated, I found myself absorbing its sweet caress; we hadn't spoken in so long.

"Hey," I said, nodding vaguely in his direction over my shoulder. I could not bring myself to really look at him. Not yet.

It was interesting how unpleasant it was waiting for him to say something, and yet, how joyful it made me to have him here, wasting his time speaking to me. I wasn't sure how many more one-on-one conversations we would be having in the future, so I knew that I should treat this as a luxury.

"I wrote you a letter," he started, "but I decided that I would rather speak to you in person so that we can talk through this."

I knew it was now time for me to face him; if I didn't look at him soon he was going to think that I was blowing him off. Remarkably, I managed to turn around and face him. I'd been standing near the edge of the room, leaning over the balcony when he'd arrived. I now used the railing behind me as support.

"Okay," I forced myself to say, though my voice still had no sound.

"Well I've thought about this for a week now and have gotten nowhere. You've been such a great friend, so I don't want to end our friendship, but at the same time, I don't see you as the same person anymore. All I really know right now is that I've had so much fun with you, and as long as you're able to get past this . . . this whole _love thing_, I can get past it too." I shuddered internally his use of the word _thing_; that _thing_ he was referring to was my heart and all of the things I did to keep it happy. "So what I'm really trying to say, is that I still want to be friends with you." He paused, but then thought of something to add. "That said, our friendship is conditional and will only work out if you are able to recognize that I will _never_ like you as more than a friend." He emphasized the word 'never' so harshly.

I exhaled loudly to buy myself some time. Over the course of his announcement, I had grown surprisingly calm. Maybe it was because I was thinking about the notes he'd written me and the diamond-bracelet on my wrist; no matter what he had to say, he obviously cared about me (even if it wasn't as much as I cared for him).

"Okay," I agreed eventually, unsure of what else to say. He furrowed his brow for a moment as an awkward pause passed between us. Had he been expecting me to disagree with his _condition_?

"Okay," he said, repeating my word. "I guess I'll let you get back to your . . ." He gazed at the empty space around my, obviously trying to deduce what I had been doing before he'd arrived. "I'll see you later, Draco."

"Yeah," I mumbled, secretly relieved that he was leaving. "See ya."

I waited until I could no longer hear his quiet footsteps on the staircase before turning around to gaze back out at the surreal horizon. I wasn't sure what to make of tonight's exchange because things still felt really awkward between us. To be honest, when I'd written him that letter, I had only envisioned two possible outcomes: either he would tell me he wanted me back, or he would tell me to never speak to him again.

Somehow he had found an _in between_.

I wasn't sure how I felt about that. What was it going to be like being friends with someone who I liked, who knew I liked him, and didn't like me back? I guess it would be different to say the least.


	13. Chapter 13, A Lapse Of Judgement

Chapter 13: A Lapse of Judgement  
From the Perspective of Draco Malfoy

Over the course of the next few weeks, things were really awkward with Harry. Sometimes there would be little periods of silence between our conversations when he looked like he was pondering whether or not I still liked him, and I was trying to hide the fact that I did. For the most part, I had become quite successful at not thinking about him in that way. It was only when he said something shockingly complimentary or insisted on helping me with something even when I refused his offers that I felt that familiar tug in my chest. I no longer felt overwhelmingly guilty about my affections for him because as far as I was concerned, this was a learning experience, and caring so much for someone was teaching me how to be uncharacteristically unselfish.

For an entire week after our encounter in the astronomy tower, we still did not try contacting each other. I think it had something to do with the fact that there was still an awkwardness between us whether we liked to acknowledge it or not. Eventually, Harry came over to me in the library one day, asking me if I minded looking over his transfiguration essay. Even though he could have easily asked Granger to help him, he'd sought out my assistance, and it was then that I realized he was making an effort to reach out. I consented to edit his paper, and when I had finished, he stayed and we chatted for a bit. Then the next day he caught me in the hallway on my way to Potions class just to tell me some random story about his plans for that afternoon. Before long, things had resumed to the way they'd been before.

Slowly, he started playfully nudging me with his elbow and poking me in the ribs whenever he was in a teasing mood, just like he had done before. I had used to view his constant touching as flirting, but now I didn't really know what to make of it. Why couldn't he see that he was crossing some sort of unspoken line by touching me even after knowing that I liked him. Did he really think I could turn off my feelings just like that? Or perhaps he had assumed that when I'd said 'love,' I was just overreacting to a silly crush. Either way, he obviously didn't really understand how much he meant to me. I tried not to act any differently than I had before, but every time I felt his skin touch mine, I could feel my heart stutter and then go into overdrive. How could he not be aware of how much he affected me?

And sometimes I would have even more unpleasant thoughts: how could he not like me at all when I liked him so much?

I tried to avoid making myself miserable by thinking about all of the reasons that Harry didn't want me. Normally I would just focus on the moment-what he was saying or doing-rather than trying to find a deeper meaning in his intentions. He had been hanging out a lot with Ron, and Seamus, and Dean lately. I don't know what caused this sudden interest in them. Oh, and I think he was dating the weasel-girl too, Ginny. I had grown increasingly close to Blaise and Pansy over the past couple of weeks. They had always been my closest friends, but somehow, I felt even closer to them than anyone else with them knowing my secret. I was constantly astounded by how courteously they handled everything because I explained everything that happened, and then they never brought it up again. They would only speak about him or what happened if I brought it up first.  
Yes, things were all together back to normal considering what had happened between us.

* * *

"Draco, come on. It will be fun!" Harry pried, jostling my shoulder as though to emphasize his excitement.

"But." I gulped, trying to formulate a reasonable excuse that didn't make me sound all together uptight. "I don't like drinking."

"Draco Malfoy. I've got to get you drunk. You don't know what you're missing out on . . . Besides, it's always the reserved ones that turn out to be the most fun." He smiled broadly.

I slapped him playfully then turned to walk away.

"I don't think so," I called lightly over my shoulder.

"You mark my words, Draco," he called back in a threatening tone.

* * *

"You should have gone with him," Pansy whined animatedly when I explained Potter's offer. "I've always thought that he was just two firewhiskeys away from changing his mind about you."

Suddenly my humor vanished.

"That's not funny, Pansy," I murmured petulantly. "He's not like that. He can't like me back."

I heard the tone in my voice grow embarrassingly melancholy. I looked downward, trying to mask my change of mood. Of course, she noticed it anyway and dropped her hand delicately onto mine.

"I don't care what he says," she whispered conspiratorially. "You're right, Drake, about everything. I've seen the way that he looks at you. There's no way that he only cares about you as a friend. He doesn't even look at his girlfriend with as much adoration as he does with you."

My mouth was suddenly very dry, and my eyes began welling with tears. I couldn't think about things like that. It wasn't fair to him as my friend. In fact, I knew that I had to get over him as quickly as possible if I wanted to have a truly healthy friendship with him. It was the only way that I could be the friend that he wanted me to be, the friend he deserved.

A muffled knocking sounded at the door, and I looked up curiously.

"Hey Drake, you in there?" I heard Blaise call.

Why was he knocking on his own bedroom door?

"Yeah," I called back with audible confusion.

"I've got someone here who is very _interested_ in seeing you," Blaise explained between chuckles as he opened the door.

Harry wobbled in, leaning sloppily against Blaise with an arm draped around his shoulders.

"Draco!" Harry exclaimed drunkenly.

Removing his arm from Blaise's frame, he staggered forward hurriedly in my direction. What did he think he was doing? Well, I guess he wasn't _thinking_ much at all. He thrust both of his arms up and slumped them heavily on both of my shoulders so that he was leaning in at just an arms-length away.

"I just remembered that I have this thing," Blaise started to say, and then Pansy cut him off to add, "yeah, I just remembered that I have to be anywhere but here right now." She jumped off the bed and grabbed Blaise by the front of his shirt, pulling him out after her. "See ya later Draco," she trilled merrily.

_Bloody hell._

"What's going on Harry?" I tried to ask casually, but I could barely make out my own voice over the pounding in my chest.

"I miss you," he professed gloomily. His eyes dropped to my mouth for just a moment before returning back to my own gaze.

I heard my heart skip a beat.

"I'm right here, Harry."

I knew that trying to carry on a coherent conversation with this boy was a lost cause, but that wasn't why I was babbling. I had to do something to distract myself. Standing this close to him, looking into his eyes, inhaling the pleasant cologne of his skin (over the stench of alcohol, I might add) . . .I couldn't even; it was maddening. He was maddening.

_Why didn't he want me back_?

"I l- Draco."

Whatever he had just said was interrupted by an untimely hiccup.

"What?" I asked cautiously, afraid of what I might hear.

"_I love you _Draco!" he shouted, his lips alight with a pleasant grin.

I shook his hands off of my shoulders and sank down on the bed behind me for support. The world had just dropped out from under me. I didn't know what to say or think or do.

"Can we get married?" he pondered allowed before bursting into a goofy fit of giggles.

"Don't say that," I ordered pointedly. My voice sounded surprisingly assertive.

I couldn't handle him when he was like this. I wasn't sure how to handle his drunken professions because that was just the problem: he was drunk. What would he say come morning?

If he could only say these things while drunk then we could never be together.

Hearing that thought pass through my mind was cutting because it suddenly donned on me that I was already beginning to hope that he'd changed his mind. The danger with hoping was that it would make any sort of rejection hurt even more. I had to get him out of here so that I could collect my thoughts. I never thought that hearing him say he wanted me back would be so difficult.

Maybe it wouldn't have been so difficult if we had done things my way. If he had just returned the sentiment when I expressed how I felt, we could have saved me all of this heartache. Things weren't supposed to be like this.

"Come on, Harry. I'm going to take you to bed. You need to sleep."

Standing up I slung his arm around my shoulders and started lugging him to the door.

"I don't want to go," he protested. "I want to stay . . . with you."

His eyelids faltered as we took a few more steps; I knew that he was going to pass out sometime soon. I just had to get him back to the Gryffindor common room before that happened. Suddenly, he reached his free hand to my face and trailed his fingers over the skin between my temple and jaw in a gentle caress.

"Draco," he sighed quietly, thoughtfully.

The tears were running freely down my face now. This was literally too much to handle.

It was so hard to maintain so much self control. Part of me just wanted to take advantage of him in his vulnerable state and see what else I could get him to say.

Another part of me desired to take him back to my bed and just lie next to him with his arms wrapped around me.

Unsuccessfully, I attempted to repress any such thoughts because it was difficult enough trying to figure out how to act around him even when he wasn't drunkenly affectionate.

Somehow I managed to stagger him into the main part of the Slytherin common room where Blaise saw me and jumped up to help. Luckily, I had managed to wrangle my emotions into some semblance of control so I wasn't falling apart quite so visibly.

"Where did you even find him like this?" I asked between pants of breath, trying to distract Blaise enough that he wouldn't notice my slightly frazzled condition.

"He was wandering aimlessly through the dungeons, obviously looking for you. Millicent found him."

"Oh." I couldn't think of anything more profound to say.

"Hey Draco. If you want, you can just head off to bed. I've got him from here."

I looked at Blaise to try to convey with my expression how much I appreciated his offer.

"Thanks," I muttered, slithering out from under Harry's weight.

It was so relieving to let go of him, as though I could breathe just a little bit more freely without him hanging onto me. At the same time, I felt the similar constriction in my chest that consumed me whenever I felt his rejection. Interesting enough, even though he had done quite the opposite of rejecting me, I still wasn't at peace with where we both stood.


	14. Chapter 14, Pressure

Chapter 14: Pressure  
From the Perspective of Harry Potter

"Come on, mate! Wake up!" Ron's voice sounded like it was echoing down a long tunnel.

"Wuzgoingon?" I slurred sleepily.

"Open your eyes, Harry. You've got to get up. We have class today."

"Bloody hell," I grumbled as realization set in.

Why had I agreed to get drunk on a school night?

"You got pretty out of it last night," he commented, attempting unsuccessfully to conceal the smirk in his voice.

I literally could not place what had happened the night before.

"What did I do?" I tried to aim at making my tone nonchalant when in reality I felt the slightest anxiety that I'd done something I'd wish I hadn't.

"I really don't know," Ron said, shrugging his shoulders. "You left after an hour or so, and I don't know where you went. When I got back to the room, you were in bed."

He didn't remember where I'd gone?

I didn't remember where I'd gone?

Now I was really curious. I didn't think that I could have done much damage if I'd made it back to the room safely and on time. How strange though. I wish that I could say that this was not my typical behavior, but as of the last few weeks, I wasn't always sure who I was anymore. Sometimes I felt so confused under the pressure of making decisions that I'd taken to drinking for a night to take a break and alleviate some of my tension. It was getting worse though.

I slouched out of bed and stumbled groggily to my chest where I proceeded to try to put together an outfit that was both comfy and fulfilled the school uniform requirements. Ron sat on his bed and fingered through a book disinterestedly while waiting for me to leave for breakfast.

"Harry," he called in an uncharacteristically reserved tone. "Don't you think you should maybe . . . slow down on the firewhiskeys next time?"

I was a little irritated that he was bringing this up with me, as though I had a real problem.

"I really don't see how that's any of your concern," I snapped.

He raised his hands in surrender.

"All right, all right. Calm down. I didn't mean to offend you."

He didn't try to talk to me again between leaving the room and meeting up with Hermione in the common area. Luckily, she picked up conversation with us when we saw her and things were instantly less awkward. Ginny was seated at the end of the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall and animatedly ushered us over when she saw us.

"It's about time you showed up," she chastised teasingly. "I thought you might not make it here before class."

I laughed without humor for her benefit. I was a little uncomfortable by the fact that I was beginning to build a reputation for my partying; it was a little embarrassing. Ginny shoved her plate of unfinished scrambled eggs in front of me.

"Here, eat. I can't finish," she insisted.

"Thanks," I mumbled as I reached for a fork.

I didn't have much time to eat because we'd arrived so late. When I thought about my upcoming Potion's class, Draco's face suddenly popped into my mind. I looked fleetingly in the direction of the Slytherin table, noticing his silvery-blond head amidst the crowd.

He was facing me but not looking in my direction.

"Babe, are you okay?" I heard Ginny ask worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I tried to assure her, my eyes still on Draco. "I'm just a little tired from last night."

"Well I can think of something that might wake you up," Ginny trailed off suggestively.

Suddenly she reached across my line of vision and turned my head to face hers. Before I could even coherently recognize what was happening, her mouth was on mine. She tried to deepen the kiss, but I just _wasn't feeling it_; we were in the middle of the Great Hall at breakfast, and I was still pretty hungover. I pulled away a little harsher than I'd meant to and then smiled at her shyly in apology. I think she understood that I was a little disoriented. She joined back into Ron and Hermione's conversation, so I took that as my cue to see what Draco was up to; I enjoyed watching him because his mannerisms were so interesting.

When I looked up to find him, I realized he was already looking at me. I smiled, but he looked away without registering any emotion across his face at all; I wish I could know what he was thinking. Sometimes I felt like he was hurting more than he led people on to believe. What was bothering him so much these days though?

By the time I left breakfast, I was so enraptured by Draco's blank expression that I vowed I would meet up with him and see how he was really doing. It reminded me back to the beginnings of our friendship when I would read his facial expressions and gestures to know what he was really thinking since he was so skilled at controlling his emotions. Unfortunately, I never got the chance to speak to him that morning. Although he normally spoke only with Pansy and Blaise in Potions, today he socialized with all of the Slytherins. Because he was seemingly in the middle of the crowd, I didn't want to interrupt for fear that one of the others would provoke me. I didn't want to force him into a position where he would have to defend me against his friends or something.

When class ended, he was one of the first to leave the room, and it was then that the thought struck me that he might be avoiding me. Had I done something wrong?

My heart skipped a beat.

What if I'd done something really bad while drunk? God, why couldn't I remember? I wasn't sure what I could have done that would actually offend him anyways, but it was the only reason I could think of that would make him want to avoid me. Ambivalently, I decided that confronting him was the only way to figure out what was up with him. Maybe he wasn't even thinking about me. There was probably something else stressing him out or occupying most of his time.

Somehow, he succeeded in evading me all day-if that was truly what he was doing. Either way, I didn't see much of him at all, so finally after dinner, I decided to use the Marauder's Map to help me find him. It showed that he was in the astronomy tower again. The moment that I reached the Gryffindor common room on my way there, Ginny ambushed me.

"Hey there," she said pleasantly, leaning in for a quick peck. Reaching down, she interlocked our fingers and tugged on one of my hands as she began to step backward.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yeah, sure," I agreed, a little confused.

"Perhaps somewhere a bit more quiet . . ." she trailed off.

She led me over to the portrait hole, and once we crossed through it, in the direction of the Room of Requirements. We stood in front of it for a moment as Ginny envisioned what she needed; I would have joined in, but I wasn't sure of what her intentions were in taking me here. When the door materialized, she glanced in my direction briefly to smile pleasantly at me.

"This way, Harry," she coaxed, pulling me through the door.

I gasped audibly when I crossed over the threshold because we were standing in a bedroom. It was all very rustic and intimate, adorned in shades of red and gold. A crackling fireplace sounded comfortingly off to one side of a monstrous bed, which dominated most of the floorspace in the room.

Suddenly, I knew why we were here.

"Harry, I love you," Ginny started. "I want to show you how much I love you."

"Ginny, I love you too." I paused, frantically racking my brain for an excuse. "But we talked about this. I'm not ready to . . ."

"Don't think about it; just feel."

She reached for both of my hands and pulled me forward as she backed up to the bed. She trailed her hands up my arms slowly, tantalizing my sensations in hope to beguile me into letting her get her way.

"Ginny," I protested, but my voice was small.

She leaned forward and pushed her lips harshly onto mine. I tried to lose myself in the moment, but there was still too much on my mind. I had thought about having sex with Ginny a few times, but had never lost myself to the idea. I wasn't really sure what I wanted right now. She began panting as our kiss deepened, drawing my body against hers to build the connection.

"Show me how much you love me, Harry," she murmured as she pulled me on top of her and fell back onto the bed.

She began fumbling with my buttons, and the feel of skin against my chest left a pleasant tingling sensation. I drew in a deep breath as I was rolled over and succumbed to the feeling of disembodied hands continue their exploration of my chest. I began to find myself basking in the comfort of having another body so close to me.

He really was so handsome.

And he was funny, though he didn't try to be.

And he made me feel needed because he couldn't do lots of things himself.

The corners of my mouth pulled upward of their own accord as I began smiling against the mouth on mine.

_"I love you_," I sighed quietly, almost inaudibly.

I raised my arms from where they were lying limp at my sides. I wanted to touch his body too, but when my hands found the slender shoulders in front of me, my heart thudded to a halt with a tumultuous realization.

I wasn't with _him_.

I was with _her_, with Ginny.

I opened my eyes and immediately recoiled from her kisses.

"I said I'm not ready to do this," I shouted angrily shoving her back off of me.

I jumped off the bed sloppily, so startled by what was happening to me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered between pants as I registered the hurt in her eyes and the scarlet rejection in her cheeks.

I couldn't look at her another minute.

I bolted from the room, running so fiercely that I couldn't even think fast enough to decide where I wanted my feet to take me. My body seemed to know where I was headed before my mind was even able to register what I needed right at that moment.

And what I needed was to see _him_.


	15. Chapter 15, A Confession

Chapter 15: A Confession

From the Perspective of Harry Potter

My feet guided me to the astronomy tower, and I dashed unyieldingly around and around the spiral staircase until I'd finally reached the top.

"Draco," I shouted the moment I could finally see him.

My tone was both excited and frantic; it must have caught him off guard because he jumped a little when he saw me. He was leaning against one of the side walls, looking as though I'd caught him in the middle of some homework. His pale hair glowed silver in the moonlight, and I was struck suddenly by his appearance. He looked so well-groomed; his shirt was pressed and his trousers were creased perfectly down the center of each leg. A little uncomfortable, I felt the need to look away. It was then that I recalled my own bedraggled appearance. My button-up shirt was still hanging open over my bare chest, and I suddenly felt very exposed. I reached up a hand in attempt to ravage some order in my hair, but it was wild from when Ginny had ran her fingers through it moments before. Just as quickly as Draco's interest had piqued, it disappeared in front of me, and he looked down at his book.

"What do you want?" he questioned disinterestedly.

I was taken aback by his frosty demeanor.

"Have I done something to offend you?" I found myself asking.

"Is that what you came here to talk about?" he replied, avoiding my question.

"I just . . . I," I stuttered.

He was beginning to annoy me. I took a few provocative steps forward so that I was looming over his frigid posture. He finally looked up at me to scowl.

"If you don't mind, I'm in the middle of something," he said articulately.

"Why are you mad at me?" I blurted. "I haven't done anything to you?"

Malfoy slammed his journal shut with a dramatic flourish and jumped to his feet.

"You haven't done anything to me?" he snapped, obviously irritated. Then suddenly, his expression transformed, and he looked rather melancholy. "No, I guess you haven't," he agreed quietly, unhappily.

His eyes became suddenly preoccupied with the empty air over my shoulder. He sighed slowly, then started walking past me in the direction of the door. I caught his arm with my hand as he passed, and he spun around to face me. I maintained my firm grip on his arm; I didn't want him to leave yet. Before he could distract me again, I spoke again.

"Why have you been avoiding me all day?"

"I'm not avoiding you."

"Yes, yes you are Draco. Don't act ignorant. What have I done? What's wrong?"

My voice raised quite embarrassingly at the end, but the thought of him being mad at me truly displeased me.

Actually, it frightened me.

"You're different now," he sneered belligerently. "You've been hanging out with the Weasleys and all of the other Gryffindorks so much that you don't have any time left for me. I get it though; it's fine."

He tried to cover up the jealous twinge in his voice.

"Draco, don't be jealous that I'm spending time with them-"

He cut me off.

_"I'm not jealous_!" he shouted. "There is nothing to be jealous of because you're not the same person that I've grown so close to in the past few months. Like I said, you're different now. This is just how I'm coping with it."

He averted his eyes and tried to shake off my hold on his arm, but I clung to it as though it was a physical symbol of my hold on our whatever it was that we had between us.

"Different how?" I prompted.

I needed to keep him talking; it was freaking me out not knowing what was on his mind.

"All you do is party now! You've built quite the reputation for yourself in just the past few weeks alone." He paused, trying to calm his temper. "I thought I knew you, but I really don't anymore because you're not acting like the same boy I've grown to love," my heart thudded irregularly on that word, "hanging out with. I don't even want to be friends with you anymore if all you're going to do is drink."

I was stung by his words because it was so embarrassing to be called out for something that I knew was becoming a problem. Draco utilized my momentary confusion to his advantage and shrugged out of my grip. He met my eyes with one last, fleeting look of disappointment and sympathy all intertwined into one, then turned to start walking away again. That look struck something unpleasantly deep inside me, and my throat began feeling very constricted, the air around me tight.

"Wait, don't go!" My voice cracked.

He couldn't have stopped enjoying my company that quickly, right?

He wheeled around angrily.

"I just told you that I don't want to be friends with you anymore! What part of that do you not comprehend?!"

I was at an absence of words because I didn't know what was happening.

The thought of him leaving suddenly overwhelmed me. The icy rejection that radiated off of him was penetrating me deeper and deeper with each passing moment of silence.

"_Please don't go_," I begged uselessly. "You're the most important thing in my life. Your friendship means so much to me."

"You don't mean any of that," Draco sneered. "If you did then you wouldn't be blowing me off every other night for some cheap alcohol."

"I know," I shouted, tears welling in my eyes. "But I'll stop. Just don't go."

"I'm just not sure you're worth my time anymore, Harry. I mean, you've spent so much _time_ being drunk in the past few weeks that you don't even act like the same person when you're sober!" He sensed that I was going to try to defend myself and continued. "Am I wrong? How much time have you spent sober in the past month, Harry?"

"I can't go more than three days without getting drunk," I mumbled miserably as some errant tears began rolling over the rim.

I hadn't realized what a disappointment I'd become until now, when I was being judged the one person who's opinion of me truly mattered. I was drowning in the molten silver of Malfoy's eyes, seeking desperately to find an ounce of understanding. He was obviously taken aback by my admittance because his demeanor slackened slightly. Now, he was slightly more weary, less predatory.

"Why so you drink so much?" He looked like he was upset enough to cry too.

My mind began swimming through broken images, scattered memories, and scared thoughts. Finally, I voiced the dilemma I'd been refusing to confront for months.

"I drink so much because I think . . . I might be bisexual."


	16. Chapter 16, Acceptance

Chapter 16: Acceptance  
From the Perspective of Harry Potter

"What . . . You're . . . But," Draco stuttered unabashedly.

I was so embarrassed that I couldn't even look at him. I reached a hand up to my face and rubbed away my traitor tears angrily.

Why did I like boys?

What was going to happen to me?

What would he say? Or worse, what would he not say?

I was being smothered by my worry for the future. If I told people, would they still look to me as their hero? Would I be tormented? Why were all of these awful things happening to me?

An icy touch on my cheek startled me. The touch was wavering and gentle but assured. It was wiping away my tears. The sensation was so unbelievably comforting that my life suddenly didn't feel quite so awful at all.

It was then that I remembered Draco, the boy who kept me on my toes at all times. Sometimes I would do something goofy, and he would laugh at me, but other times he would just roll his eyes in agitation. Sometimes he was so open and caring, but other times so cold. I never knew what he was going to do or say next, but all I knew was that he had me waiting on his every action and hanging on his every word like there was nothing more important to me.

He _was_ important to me-important in a different way than Ron and Hermione, but even more so than Ginny. I had grown to crave his company just as he had confessed needing mine. But what I had not realized until now, however, was that I needed him too.  
When he removed his hand from my cheek, I felt the absence of his touch; it burned me. I needed to feel him, whether it be through his words or touch or glances; I _needed_ him to do something.

"Harry," he finally murmured in a voice so soft that it caressed me like velvet. "I don't care what you like." I peeked up at his eyes cautiously, unable to resist avoiding them any longer. "You're still my best friend."

"But I'm not," my voice was so course, "the Golden Boy anymore. You're right. I'm not the same person I was. And I was better before."

Draco furrowed his eyebrows thoughtfully, creasing his alabaster forehead in disarray.

"Don't you see, Harry? You're _no_ different than you were before at all. It's just that before, you didn't know that this part of you existed, that you were capable of having these feelings. It's just how you're handling this new side of you that is harming everyone. None of the people who care about you like seeing you so broken."

"But what am I supposed to do?" I shouted angrily.

"You don't have to do anything-not if you don't want to. Some people are able to live their lives without ever embracing this aspect of their personality. If that's you, than that's great, but if not, then you have to figure out a way that allows you to cope with who you are now." He paused. "That can't be through drinking."

I opened and closed my mouth a few times in effort to speak, but I found myself just catching my breath. It felt like I had been breathing underwater since I'd gotten up here. Draco stood there for a few minutes of silence, watching me collect myself and waiting to offer me his words of advice, I'm sure, if I wanted them. I just couldn't bring myself to say anything; I still didn't know what I wanted.

"I'm going to head back to my room," Draco murmured eventually. I could tell by the conflicted look in his eyes that he wasn't sure if he should leave me. "I'll let you collect your thoughts, but don't hesitate to come find me if you need to talk."

Before departing, Draco placed a hesitant hand on my shoulder and squeezed fleetingly before letting go again. My arm tingled pleasantly from the pressure even though he was careful not to touch my skin. As he turned to go, Draco looked down despondently, and in that glance I got the feeling that he wanted to do something more.

If he had done _something_, I would not have stopped him.

In fact, I would have wanted it to happen.


	17. Chapter 17, Taken

Chapter 17: Taken  
From the Perspective of Draco Malfoy

Harry's words repeated themselves over and over again in my head.

_I think I might be bisexual_.

That was more of a confession than I ever would have thought possible of him. Could it mean . . . ?

_No!_ I couldn't allow my thoughts to trail down that path because there was nothing more deadly than allowing myself to hope; I don't think I could handle getting rejected a second time.

But still; what did it all mean? When did he realize he was capable of feeling this way? What had caused him to feel this way? Was it me? Was it some . . . other guy?

I was literally getting a headache from the millions of questions and possibilities assaulting my brain. I supposed that he probably didn't want me mentioning this to anyone, but talking this over with Blaise and Pansy couldn't hurt.

I walked back to the Slytherin common room in a daze, resolute on deciding how to handle my newfound information. I literally could not last for more than a few minutes of trying to distract myself with random thoughts before my mind darted back to Harry's admittance. Could it mean that all of the times I'd noticed the way he looked at me, really looked at me, and imagined he felt the same way back, I wasn't making all of it up in my head? Was he capable of caring about me in the way that I cared for him? Had he felt this way all along, however subconscious?

"_Shit_, Drake," Pansy breathed upon my arrival, obviously trying to make sense of my expression. "What's wrong?"

I had to imagine that I just looked fatigued; that's how I felt. All of this anxiety and uncertainty was draining.

"You will not believe what Potter just told me," I started, launching into a play-by-play account of our entire exchange.

"I knew you were right the whole time," Blaise exclaimed excitedly when I finished speaking.

The entire tone of our conversation had shifted when they'd caught the gist of my news. Even though the news did not necessarily make me happy, I felt the slightest sense of relief; it was nice to know that this relationship that I'd imagined we'd had in my head, was not entirely chemically impossible. I was starting to feel crazy for ever looking so deeply into simple words and actions.

"What are you going to do now," Pansy asked me.

"Nothing."

"_What_?" she barked. "Now's your time to pounce on him!"

"Pansy." I shook my head.

"Or maybe not," she decided, narrowing her eyes at my passive demeanor. "You were always too good for him anyways."

"I just don't think he's in a state to be _pounced_ on," I said slowly. "If it has taken him this long to acknowledge these feelings, than it will take him another eight years before he starts accepting them."

"What about you?" Blaise asked cautiously, delicately. "How do you feel about the things that you've been feeling lately?"

"Astoundingly calm. I mean, I'm sure my father will need medical attention when I tell him that I like guys, but I don't really care. I've put up with so many things for him, and my mother too, that they should at least let me have this, embrace this aspect of my life."

Blaise smirked thoughtfully, and Pansy reached over to rest her hand on top of mine. Despite the overwhelming disarray that my life had become, I allowed myself to smile, thankful for the family I had here at Hogwarts who accepted me for who I was.

* * *

Soon after our discussion, my friends and I split up to go to bed. I was soundly asleep for the first time in many nights, when I was suddenly jolted awake by an icy touch.

I was startled and disoriented, trying to call out, but something was shoved tightly over my head.

Someone hissed the words to a body-bind curse, and my muscles locked into place.

My sheets were ripped back, and the frigidness of the air enveloped me.

I couldn't see anything. I couldn't speak. I couldn't move.

I felt the icy touch trail to my hand, and the next thing I knew, we were apparating.


	18. Chapter 18, Bad News

Chapter 18: Bad News  
From the Perspective of Harry Potter

Even though it didn't make sense for me not to be terrified by what I'd confessed to Draco Malfoy, I simply . . . wasn't.

I almost felt a sense of pride knowing that he knew my secret.

Things would get better from here on out; I would get better from here on out. Draco would make sure of that.

"What are you so cheery about this morning?" Ron asked me wearily, eyeing my cheeky grin.

Funny. I hadn't realized I was smiling, but smiling just seemed like a natural impulse now that Draco was in my life again.

"I just feel good this morning," I allowed, "really good."

"Hey guys," Seamus called pleasantly as he took at the seat across from me at the table.

I glanced unceremoniously around the Great Hall as throngs of students filtered in. I hadn't even realized how early I had arrived, but if I was being honest with myself, I knew the reason that I was so eager to get to breakfast early was that I would be seeing Draco again.

And that prospect made me so very giddy.

My eyes scanned the room, stopping at the Slytherin table. Draco and his friends had still not arrived.

_Where was my boy?_

My lips curled upward of their own accord as the errant thought flitted through my mind. I was not even sure when I had began thinking of him as _mine_, or even what that really meant; all I knew was that at that moment I was jealous of whoever was with him (angry that it wasn't me).

"In case you're wondering, Ginny hasn't left her room since yesterday evening when she got back from going out with you." Hermione's frosty tone was heavy with implication.

I slowly turned to face her, biding my time. I knew I should have been concerned for Ginny's well-being, but at the moment, worrying about _her_ was the last thing on my mind.

"Last night didn't go so well," I allowed, leveling Hermione's curious gaze. _With Ginny_, I added in my head.

I had been as vague as possible in explaining to my friends what had happened. I didn't want them to know that I had refused to have sex with Ginny; it would be embarrassing for both of us. It just wasn't the type of thing I would share with Hermione, or Ron especially . . . But Draco; this was something I could tell him about.

I smiled at the thought of him . . . Again.

No matter how hard I tried to distract myself, I could not keep him off of my mind for more than a few seconds. I was becoming seriously infatuated with his presence.

"No, I _already_ checked!" Pansy Parkinson's shrill voice reverberated unpleasantly off the walls.

My head snapped back to the Slytherin table where Pansy was gesturing animatedly in a heated discussion she was having with some of the other eighth-years. My heart thudded irregularly with an embarrassing wave of disappointment when I took note that Draco was not among his friends. I felt suddenly angry that I cared so much. _How_ had he developed such a hold on me? _He_ was the one who had confessed to being in love with _me_, but sometimes it seemed like he cared less about me now than he had before. How did he feel about me now? I exhaled agitatedly and pushed the palms of my hands into my closed eyes.

_Where was he?_

I aimed to appear casual as I angled my head in their direction so I could hear what they were saying.

"I checked the library and the infirmary," Blaise confided quietly.

I could tell that he was trying to separate himself from his words to come across as indifferent, but the worry was audible in his tone.

"He should have told us that he was leaving the school," Theodore Nott added with a scowl.

Pansy closed her eyes and shook her head vehemently at her friends.

"He wouldn't have left without saying anything. Especially not after last night."

I licked my lips with intrigue as Pansy's words sunk in. It had suddenly become abundantly clear to me that they were talking about Draco. They _were_. I could just tell. But what did she mean by 'especially not after last night'? Had he said something about our encounter? Had he said something about _me_? I turned my head so I was now staring at her, willing her to explain what Draco had said about me . . .

How he felt about me.

Where we stood as friends.

If he still . . . _Loved_ me.

Anything.

There was something about the looks on their faces though; I was finally keying into the fact that something was wrong. Suddenly Dean hi-fived Seamus and they both burst into a fit of raucous laughter. They were now being so loud that I was missing what Draco's friends were saying. I shot a few unnoticed glares in Dean and Seamus' direction as Pansy and the other eighth-year Slytherins rose from the table, obviously having lost their appetite.

I suddenly didn't care what anyone else thought about my obvious obsession in Draco's whereabouts. I shoved away from the table and jumped to my feet. I walked briskly that by the time Draco's friends had reached the door, I was there too.

"Where's Draco?" I blurted the moment we crossed paths.

"What's it to _you_?" Theodore sneered as he sized me up.

"We don't know where he is," Blaise answered civilly, ignoring Theodore's comment.

"What do you mean?"

My voice was thick, but it sounded far away, even in my own ears. My heart was pounding in my head.

"He 's gone," Pansy whimpered, unshed tears welling up in her eyes. "_Draco's missing_."


	19. Chapter 19, Warnings

Chapter 19: Warnings  
From the Perspective of Harry Potter

It had been six days since I'd last seen _him_. I couldn't even think his name; it infuriated me. All of this infuriated me.

On the first day of his disappearance, the professors spread the news that he had probably returned home unexpectedly. On the second day, when all of his friends received owls from his parents that he was not with them, Headmistress McGonagall finally called in the Aurors to file a missing persons report. On the third day, everyone waited in anticipation for Draco to return to school with a freshly sun-kissed tan, laughing at everyone who had worried that he'd been in trouble when he had really slipped away to some remote beach for a day in the sun.

But it never happened; there had been no word from him for the next three days either.

I dragged my quill aimlessly across the page in front of me, unable to formulate a coherent argument for my Potion's essay. My mind was swimming in broken images . . .

_Draco_ rolling his eyes.

_Draco_ sneering at me.

_Draco's_ smile of complete inhibition when he thought no one was watching.

All of these gestures, so unimportant and random, had become overwhelmingly endearing to me. Would I ever see any of them again? _No_! I couldn't think like that. Of course I would see him again. _Soon_. I nodded my head up and down as I thought the words.

"Harry, you know they're going to find him, right?" Ron's voice quivered slightly because he knew this was a delicate topic.

"I know," I assured him, but my voice raised at the end so that it sounded like I was whining. "I just feel . . . Well, I don't know."

"You can talk to us about it if you want," Hermione said quietly. "Or you don't have to if you don't want to." She paused, evidently pondering how to properly phrase her thoughts. "Even though we never understood your friendship with Draco, we know how important he is to you. You don't have to act so brave over this . . . I suppose that I'm just trying to say that you can talk to us about anything Harry. We might not agree with your . . . _decisions_ at first, but we want you to be happy."

Her words did not match the expression in her eye. They were wide and wistful as though putting together the pieces of a large puzzle. I was not really sure if she was looking for me to speak about something specifically, but despite my confusion and current state of affairs, I found myself crack a small smile.

"Thanks for always being here for me, you guys," I responded earnestly.

* * *

"What have you got there?" Ron asked at breakfast the next morning.

A glossy, black screech owl dropped an envelope from its talons as it swooped overhead and circled back out the window without stopping. The envelope landed in my lap. It was constructed of a thick, yellowing parchment and fastened shut with a circular aubergine wax seal.

"I dunno," I responded, curiously tearing through the seal.

Inside was a letter with a message that sucked all air out of the room. My heart started pounding loud in my ears, and the corners of my vision began to blur with rage.

WE HAVE DRACO. DO AS WE SAY IF YOU WANT HIM TO REMAIN ALIVE. TELL ANYONE ABOUT THIS NOTE AND HE DIES.

I would have to do what they said. I wasn't even sure what they were going to want me to do, but that much was clear. When it came to bartering Draco's life there was no question.

But who were they? What did they want?

Horrible images of a mangled, lifeless Draco overwhelmed me. For the past seven days I had worried that he was scared, hurt, hungry, or even worse. This letter showed me that my worst suspicions might have been true.

"What is it?" Ron repeated.

I tried to mask my tortured expression as I looked up at Ron, but when I saw the curious, hopeful expression on his face, I choked back a sob. He had hoped that this was a letter from Draco, that much was evident. He had hoped that it was a letter from Draco for my sake because he knew how much I was hurting over this. I was suddenly touched by his concern and abruptly stood to leave.

"Just a letter from the minister requesting my attendance at some charity function," I lied quickly. "I think I'm going to head back to the room. I don't feel very well."

* * *

When I entered the bedroom, there was another letter waiting. It was sitting unthreateningly on the end of my bed. I stared at it for a long moment before walking over to snatch it up. This stupid piece of paper held the fate of both Draco and myself.

GO TO 12 GRIMMAULD PLACE FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTION. TELL EVERYONE THAT YOU ARE GOING HOME FOR A FEW DAYS TO COLLECT YOURSELF FROM DRACO'S DISAPPEARANCE. DEVIATE FROM THE PLAN AND HE DIES.

I put the letter down and looked morosely around the room. Somebody had been in this room, _my_ room. They were trying to get to me, and they were going to succeed so long as they had Draco.

I exhaled slowly and bent over to pull my suitcase out from under my bed. It looked like I was going home.


	20. Chapter 20, Vanished

Chapter 20: Vanished  
From the Perspective of Draco Malfoy

Cold, jagged metal clamps cut into my wrists, holding them into place behind my back. I was propped against a large, stone wall; it was solid and formidable against my back. I opened my eyes slowly, squinting into the darkness to see if I could recognize anything that would give me a clue as to where I was.

I could barely see the room around me for it was so dark. From what I could make out, I seemed to be in a dungeon of sorts. The thick stone of the walls merged seamlessly into the stone of the floor, and on the far wall from me, there was a wrought-iron gate out. The room was damp and musty; I could tell I was underground. I heard a dropping noise in the background, and the only light in sight came from a single candle sconce on the wall next to me.

What was I doing here? What did they want with me? I had been here for days, and the only people I had seen were the house elves who periodically apparated in and out to help me eat. I guess that meant that my captor wanted me alive, right? I honestly didn't know what to think anymore.

I just wanted to get out of here. Go home. See my family. See _Harry_. I clenched my eyes shut with the pang in my chest I felt from thinking about him. Even down here I felt the sting of his rejection, of his absence. I hung my head in defeat and waited.

A few more hours passed by when I heard the tell-tale clattering of stiletto heels somewhere in the distance. I tensed but forced myself to focus on keeping my eyes clamped shut. Maybe I could develop an advantage if they thought I was sleeping. The footsteps were growing nearer and then suddenly stopped.

They were standing at the gate of my cell. I braced myself as though for impact.  
"Draco, _darling_, how nice it is to see you again!"

My eyes wrenched open and I snapped my head up to stare-no, to gawk-into the face of Donatella Zabini, _Blaise's mother_.

"What the hell?" I spat.

I had known her since I was a child, but I did not recognize the woman standing in front of me now. She was smiling pleasantly back at me as she pulled out a large key ring and unlocked the door.

"Now, now, Draco. There's no need for that kind of tone," she chastised. "I just need you to do something for me."

She sauntered toward me with a languid, relaxed gait.

"What do you want?" I asked, articulating each word separately to emphasize how very unamused I was by this entire situation.

I couldn't imagine why she would have taken all of these precautions just to ask me for something; obviously she had questionable intentions. She procured a wand from somewhere in the billows of her silk sheath and waved it lazily in my directions. I felt the handcuffs grow in diameter, so I was able to slide my hands free.

"All I want is for you to make me a few potions." She offered me her hand nonchalantly as she said this.

I scoffed at her hand before pushing myself unsteadily off the ground. Suddenly, I could not restrain myself from asking the strings of questions that were bubbling to my lips.

"Then why are you doing all of this? Why couldn't you just buy the potion? You don't know anyone else who could help you? Why would you want my help? Why didn't you just ask? Why did you kidnap me and lock me up?"

"Draco, I'm on a tight schedule, and I would quite appreciate your cooperation," she responded, dismissing my questions. "All you need to know is that all of this is part of a far grander plan, and right now I need you to make me the potions."

"What kind of potion?"

"Blaise tells me that you are quite skilled at potion brewing," she commented, once again ignoring my question. "So I'm sure that if I give you the recipes and ingredients that you will be able to follow along."

"You're _crazy_!" I blurted suddenly. "I'm not doing anything for you."

"Oh, yes you are," she corrected with a near imperceptible smile. "Because Mr. Potter was given specific instructions to come here and rescue you. If you do not do exactly as I say than when he arrives I will kill him."

I clenched my jaw tightly closed, and my fingers curled into fists of their own accord. I felt my nails digging painfully into the palms of my hands, but nothing could quell the sudden intense revulsion that consumed me.

She had just threatened _Harry_._ My Harry_.

I opened my mouth to retort, but words escaped me.

There was nothing I could say.

There was nothing I could do . . . Except do what she said.

Admiring my evidently dwindling resolve, Donatella smiled in triumph.

"I knew you would eventually see things clearly Draco. I so look forward to working with you."


	21. Chapter 21, The Game

**Author's Note:** Finally . . .

Chapter 21: The Game  
From the Perspective of Harry Potter

The name-plate that read **Zabini** was obstructed by the low-hanging branch of a nearby sycamore tree. It was, perhaps, a subliminal message conveying to those looking for the house that anyone who was meant to be here knew where they were.

Through the wrought-iron and limestone gate, the grounds of Zabini Manor tumbled upward in a lush disarray of sweeping lawn and perfectly manicured hedges. The manor itself was nestled at the rear of the property where the unmarred lawn divulged into dense forest. The house was individual and classic, decorated disjointedly with spires, and turrets, and stained-glass windows from Tiffany & Co. The house, though evidently aged, was an illustration of imposition and establishment.

Draco was trapped inside; the most recent letter I'd received had told me so. When I had returned to Grimmauld Place, I could tell that something was off with the security wards. As it turned out, someone had managed to break in, but only to leave me another letter, which had read:

ZABINI MANOR.

12 HEATHERSTONE LANE, BUCKINGHAMSHIRE, ENGLAND.

WE ARE READY FOR YOU TO COME COLLECT DRACO.

TELL ANYONE AND HE DIES.

I had apparated over as swiftly as I was able, but now that I was here, I wished I had made a plan. But Draco was inside, and he needed me. I motivated myself to approach the gate with the vision of an imagined reunion with Draco. Whoever was holding him captive was ready for me because when I reached out to touch the gate, it suddenly dematerialized. I hurried forward, eager not to waste any time. When I reached the door, it swung open of its own accord so that I was staring right into the face of a pretty, dark-skinned witch. I saw an obvious resemblance to Blaise in her face.

"Harry Potter," she said tersely by means of greeting. "We've been expecting you."

"Where is Draco?" I asked through clenched teeth.

"This way," she replied with a small grin, beckoning me into the house.

I rested my hands in the pockets of my pants so that my right hand lay directly overtop of my wand. She led me through the dark foyer into an adjoining parlor.

Like magnets, our eyes were drawn together the moment I entered the room. The _sight_ of him, the _presence_ of him, took my breath away. His hair was disheveled, and his clothes were wrinkled, but I had never seen any creature so beautiful. And just like that, without a coherent, conscientious decision, I realized that I was unequivocally, irrevocably in love with him.

"Draco," I murmured urgently, my chest tightening considerably.

I wanted nothing more than to rush over to him and wrap my arms around him, basking in the radiance that _he was_. I realized suddenly that I had felt this way all along; he had been right the whole time. Seeing him like this-broken and scared-made me angry. I wanted to tell him that I would take care of him. No harm would befall him ever again.

Only then did I take notice of the dagger being held to his throat and the twenty other people in the room. I recognized some of the other faces as former Death Eaters. They all stared blankly back at me as Blaise's mother led me to the center of the room.

"Well Harry, here he is," she chirped, noncommittally flicking her fingers in Draco's direction. "And now that you're here, we can begin. However, before we can do anything, I feel that a majority of the people in this room would feel more comfortable if you surrendered your wand."

She allowed a small smile to escape. My grip on my wand tightened.

"I think I'll keep my wand, thanks."

"That wasn't a question," she clarified, "it was just common courtesy. Kindly hand over your wand now or Bruce over here will slit Draco's throat."

My eyes, having never left Draco's, appraised his body once over to make sure that he was not already harmed. He tried to appear like he was not afraid, but I could see the fear behind his brave facade. The mammoth of a man standing behind him, Bruce, pushed the knife into the pale skin of Draco's neck.

"Don't touch him," I seethed. My words were barely understandable over the animalistic growl that came from somewhere in the back of my throat.

"Then give us your wand," Donatella Zabini countered, reaching her hand out towards me, palm up.

Draco's eyes stared ceaselessly into my own, imploring me not to give in, but I had no choice. I couldn't let them hurt him. I extracted my wand from my pocket and swiftly placed it into her waiting hand. Everyone in the room gasped audibly when I handed it over, almost as though they hadn't expected their plan to work. Luckily, Bruce immediately released Draco, and we shuffled hastily towards each other.

We fell into one another, our bodies molding together as one, and upon the pleasant pressure of his body against my own, I exhaled with the relief that he was finally safe in my arms-_where he had belonged all along_. I pulled him closer so that his head rested in the crook of my shoulder, my hands resting protectively around his shoulders and on the back of his head. I could feel the gentle rhythm of his heart pattering in sync with my own, and I lost myself to the soft sound of his breathing. Never had felt so close to another person in my entire life.

"Now that that's all settled, we'll be heading down to the dungeons." Donatella's voice penetrated the small sanctuary that Draco and I had created.

We went without protest. We had nothing to fight with, and I didn't even know why they had brought us here today. I maintained a firm grip on Draco's waist as we descended a nearby staircase, afraid to let go of his delicate frame. No matter what happened today, I had to get him out of here. It occurred to me suddenly that everything would be different when we did get out of here. Even though nothing had really changed, I felt resplendent with the new appreciation I had for Draco. We could finally be _together_.

An unwelcome thought suddenly penetrated my resolve. He had expressed his affections for me months ago, but how did he feel about me now? He couldn't possibly feel the same way about me after all of the mixed signals and heartache I had put him through. Somehow I had to make it up to him; I had to show him how much he meant to me. I felt pangs of immense guilt at the memory of ever having rejected him. How could I have ever told him that I didn't want him? How could I have not seen the beauty in his presence? All that mattered now was getting us out of this place, but I decided then that I would spend the rest of my life showing him just how much he meant to me.

I tried to meet his eyes, but they were trained forward on the path in front of us. We were led to a small, square-shaped room that was only accessible through a rickety, wooden door. The walls and floors were made of pale stone, and there were no windows. One of the men behind us waved his wand and muttered something under his breath. Two sets of handcuffs, chained to the walls on either side of the room, zoomed towards us, and before Draco and I could even react, they were clamped down on our wrists and dragging us to opposite walls of the room. Because the room was so small, we were only about ten feet from each other.

I struggled against my bindings, but there was nothing I could do to break free of them. A dark, wooden table suddenly floated into the room and landed on the floor somewhere in between Draco and myself. On the table there was a handful of black glass bottles. They were all the same shape and height and sitting in a line across the middle of the table. The other wizards and witches who had followed us down here turned around and made their way back up the stairs.

"Each bottle on the table in front of you is a potion that if consumed will elicit a different result," Donatella started. "Draco made many of them, so he knows what they can do, and I tested them on one of my house elves for efficacy. Some of the potions are very harmful, and some are not. One of these bottles contains a potion that will kill." She paused for effect. "You two are going to play a game. You will take turns choosing a potion to drink. The game ends when one of you dies." She was positively elated by the end of this explanation.

"_Why_ are you doing this?" Draco whimpered, his voice shrill.

"It has only been a few months since the Dark Lord's death, but his passing will not stop his followers from carrying out his ultimate goal. We will finish what he started by putting all of those _muggle-born abominations_ to death." As she spoke her eyes grew wild and she gestured animatedly into the air as though envisioning the horrors she was talking about. "Once Harry Potter is out of the picture, no one will stand in our way. And as for you Draco, unfortunately you just _made friends with the wrong sort_." My blood ran cold at the her words, parallel to the words I had used to bring Draco and I together. "Harry might not have even come if we hadn't lured him here through you."

"Then why not just kill me?" I shouted at her hopefully. "Skip the game! Let Draco go! Just kill me."

Before responding to me she looked right into my eyes and scowled.

"Harry Potter, I may not know you very well on a personal level, but I know enough about you to say that the world will be a better place when you're no longer in it. I want your last moments to be spent with worry, fear, and dread. If we were to _just_ kill you, well, where would the fun be in that?"

Draco eyed me fearfully through a layer of unshed tears. I clenched my jaw and curled my hands into fists. I would never forgive these people for doing this to Draco. If only he wasn't here right now; if only we had never become friends. I couldn't have saved him from all of this. My eyes sought out Donatella's, pleading for her to reason with us, but she simply smiled pleasantly back at me.

"Oh, and one more thing," she added. "There is a time limit for how long you can take to choose and drink the potion. The room will fill with water until you drown if you take too long."

With that comment, she turned on her heel and left the room. The door slammed shut behind her, and we were alone.


End file.
